Kingdom's Light
by Alex Foster
Summary: Set just before Zelda's birth, her father must unravel a plot that threatens the entire world. Meanwhile, a young army officer stumbles on a crime syndicate with far reaching power. As the two men move toward their destinies, the world prepares for a hero
1. Chapter 1

Title: Kingdom's Light

Author: Alex Foster

Feedback: I love to hear what you think so drop me a line or leave a review.

Category: Fantasy/Action

Rating: PG-13

Map: A map for this fic can be found at www _**DOT**_ fanart-central **_DOT_** net/pic-626512 _**DOT**_ html

Summary: Set just before Zelda's birth, her father must unravel a plot that threatens the entire world. Meanwhile, a young army officer stumbles on a crime syndicate with far reaching power. As the two men move toward their destinies, the world prepares for the birth of a hero.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Nintendo. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: This story is from an outline I wrote many years ago when I was working on Path of Sins. I kept the outline tucked away until the temptation to tell this story was just too great. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Thank you for your time.

* * *

_Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: You don't give up._

Anne Lamott

* * *

**Chapter One**

Lieutenant Glenn Tarmag knew the two men were following him. Stepping up his pace, the young solider in the Hyrulian Guard spared a glance over his shoulder. The mission, he reflected, was not going as planned. Glenn, freshly scrubbed from his jaw to his new boots, had considered his first assignment with the Guard a dream come true.

Barely old enough to shave, Glenn had wanted to join the army since he was young enough to help his dad shine the silver seal on the elder Tarmag's palace issued sword. Now, he wore the same seal on the crossguard of his own sword.

Researching rumors of illegal activities committed by a new trade federation wasn't quite the glorious story making wars of the eastern badlands, but Glenn felt honored that the Captain of the Guard had selected him.

Because of that, Glenn Tarmag would find the truth behind the Iron Fist.

Pulling his cloak tighter about his strong frame, Glenn wished for a crowded street to lose his followers on. Light rain and low hanging fog covered the small town on the southern mouth of the Jidra River. Few people ventured out in the cold rain, and that meant the two men following him had a clear view.

Ducking down an alley, Glenn broke out into a run. Sweat joined the raindrops on his face. He didn't want to have to fight the two men. Not only would that confirm to the representatives of the Iron Fist in this town that he was investigating them, but seventeen year old Glenn wasn't sure if he could take on two men at once.

The Fist offered merchants armed security for their convoys and he was sure those two officers behind him were fully trained in combat. The trade group had grown quickly in the southwestern country of Calatia and started to spread into Hyrule by recruiting young teenage boys unfit for the army or looking to make money playing warrior.

His boots sliding through mud, Glenn rounded a corner and found himself faced with a brick wall. He looked back and saw the two men emerge from the alley. He couldn't see their faces underneath the cowls of their cloaks, but noticed that while he was breathing heavily from the run they looked clam and composed. How had they kept up with him?

The two men split apart and took up positions on either side of the alley mouth. Glenn pushed his hood back and drew his sword. The polished metal caught the defused daylight and Glenn was sure the men could tell he'd never drawn the blade battle before.

"I am a solider in the Palace Guard," he announced. "I have no wish to harm ya. Back away and let me be."

The two men exchanged a glance and one raised his hand. With a loud whoosh, fire ran down his sleeve and pooled in his hand. Glenn almost dropped his sword in shock. Magic! They were from the Tower of Magic?! He backpedaled until he hit the brick wall. The other followed suit and the two spitting balls of fire filled the alley with light. Raindrops hissed as they touched the conjured flame.

"I've no business with ya!" Glenn cried. "Yer ain't who I thought."

"Yes we are," the first one said. "_Acrudati_."

The two balls of fire flew from their hands, rotated around each other in a wheel of flame, and howled toward the young guard. Glenn pulled back and braced himself to feel the fire race across his flesh. It never came. Inches from his face the balls came to a stop and fizzled out.

"Last time I checked," a new voice said, "it was a crime to kill an officer. Or anyone for that matter."

All eyes turned to see a short man about thirty years old standing behind the two wizards. He wore no cloak despite the rain and had thinning wispy blond hair. Light gray eyes that looked as though they held mirth more often than menace stared unwaveringly at the two men. A vest of thick leather armor with a gold symbol on the left breast covered a long sleeved black tunic. At his waist was a sword with a black winged crossguard that curved down over the bloodcatch.

Now the weapon in Glenn's hands did slip and hit the cobblestone street. No one noticed the noise. Only one type of person carried a sword like the one at the stranger's waist.

In his short life Glenn had only seen two Knights of the Triforce; the one at the end of the alley was the second.

Known around the world but rarely seen anymore, the Knights served no king or queen or emperor. They lived to protect the Triforce and keep it from misuse. When he was a little boy, Glenn had asked his father if he could join the Knights of the Triforce, and learned those Knights were born not selected. Their powers were unknown even to the masters at the Tower of Magic, the last school for spell casters and governors of all things magic.

The first wizard sent a blast toward the Knight before Glenn could fully register what was happening. Moving in a blur, the winged sword came free and touched the flash of power. It arced back toward the wizard, hitting him full in the chest. He flew back into the wall behind Glenn with a sickening crunch.

Glenn looked down at the attacker and saw a burnt skeleton covered in the smoldering remains of cloak and clothes.

The second wizard raised his hands and began to channel power. The Knight came forward, his sword arcing in the rain. Glenn heard two wet clops and saw the wizard's severed hands hit the ground in a bloody mess. Before he could scream, the Knight ran the wizard through the gut, grabbed his throat with his free hand, and lifted the wizard in the air like a child's doll.

"Who trained you?" the Knight asked. "Why are you working with the Fist?"

The wizard opened his mouth, drew a shaky breath, and spit blood at the Knight.

"Who trained you?" he asked again, undeterred. "The Tower?"

The bleeding man shook his head.

Amazingly, the Knight seemed to accept that as an answer. He twisted the sword sharply and let the dead wizard fall to the ground. He held the blade up to the rain, letting the water wash it clean. With that done, he sheathed the sword and turned to Glenn.

"Are you okay?"

Glenn found he had no moisture in his throat and could not swallow. He managed a nod.

The Knight smiled grimly. "You look a little green. I'm sorry if you aren't used to this, but spell casters make dangerous enemies. Sometimes you have to kill them before they kill you. I'm Jarn and I think you and I have been following the same leads."

"I-iron Fist?"

Jarn nodded. "Grab your sword and let's go. Best to get out of here." He took Glenn's arm and pulled the shocked guard past the two mangled bodies and deeper into the storm.

* * *

Prince Harkinian Genary rolled on the balls of his feet in anticipation. He stood in the inner courtyard of Hyrule Castle and watched as the unadorned carriage pulled through the front gates. It had been years since he last saw her, and suddenly the cares and worries that had been pressing on him felt lighter. 

There were few people for her formal arrival, as per her request. To his side was the Hylian Minster of Sate, Chancellor Deverell. Behind him, almost lost in the shadows of a late cloudy day was his ever-present guard, Knight Leita.

The protection was not his idea but his father that cashed in favors deeper than Harkinian could imagine for the First Knight himself to assign Leita to him. So much for them not being political animals, he thought.

Clad in her dark leather armor with the Triforce symbol on her left breast, Leita was a slight woman that faded from view well. Far from unassuming, he knew, the sandy haired woman had received training at an early age on the use of her powers.

Harkinian cleared his throat and ran his hand back through his brown hair.

Chancellor Deverell noticed and said politely, "She will be most certainly happy to see you again, sir."

The carriage pulled to a stop in front of them and the side door popped open.

"I hope so." Harkinian came forward, swung wide the door, and extended a hand to help her out.

A soft hand touched his and Princess Seline of Calatia came into view. Blonde and delicate looking, the young woman carried herself with a power that came not from her rank but from a power that was decidedly supernatural. In the years since Harkinian completed his schooling at the Tower of Magic, Seline had stayed on there and embraced her heritage as a gifted witch.

As she stepped down from the carriage, he marveled at the fact that she hadn't aged a day in the almost ten years they'd been apart. He knew those gifted with magic aged differently than others, but to see it in his childhood friend was striking. Instead of a dress made of expensive silk as he was used to seeing on noblewomen, Seline wore only a simple green dress with parts for riding. Clothes favored by women that worked labor at the Tower.

Rising only to his shoulder, her blue eyes met his with the same keen intelligence and spark of humor he remembered. She held the moment for a beat and then threw her arms around him.

"Oh, Light, how I've missed you!" she said into his chest.

He laughed for what felt like the first time in months and lifted her from her feet. "I can't believe my Little Leany is a witch now."

Regretfully, he put her down and stepped back. "It is truly good to see you again, Seline."

Deverell bowed his tall frame at the waist. "Welcome to Hyrule, Princess. It has been too long since your last stay."

"Thank you, Chancellor. I wish my visit was purely for pleasure, but I carry news." She glanced at Harkinian. "I need to speak with your father."

"King Gareth has already ordered a dinner be prepared in your honor," Deverell said.

Harkinian took her arm and began leading her inside the castle. Seline shook her head. "Better make that a private dinner. I would rather people not know I'm here."

"Is it Hinart?"

"No, Harkinian," she said. "Daddy's fine. It's you I'm worried about. And"--she paused on her next words--"your wife."

* * *

"Calatian gossip was not a nice way to find out, Harkinian. You should have sent word to me." 

The prince nodded and looked down. "I know."

After a small amount of diplomatic prattle with Deverell, Seline had requested a chance to rest after her long journey from Calatia. Instead of retiring to her guest quarters, though, she had selected Harkinian's apartments to recover in.

Presently, they were in his sitting room away from the aides and security personnel that always hovered about. A spread of cheeses and wine lay untouched between them.

"It happened very quickly," he said. "Deverell picked her and arranged the entire affair."

"Quickly in our world means months of parties," she said. "I was only a few weeks away."

Harkinian smiled. "It wasn't a proud time in my life, old friend. You had your training to see to, and I thought it best you weren't here to see me like that."

"Tell me about it," she said. "Please?"

He sighed. "Last year my father fell ill with a fever and the royal houses made a play for the throne. Apparently, I am viewed as somewhat weak." He smiled slightly. "Deverell knew how the handle it. Kilsa is the daughter of a powerful house, but she has no brothers. And with her mother too old for a chance of legitimate heirs, smaller houses threatened to swallow her family.

"Already, her sisters had been married off to weaker nobles, shortening their power and influence." Harkinian appeared to choose his next words carefully. "Kilsa is a very politically astute woman. Given the right power, she knows how to keep it by any means necessary."

"You don't approve." It was not a question. Seline knew her companion well. "But sometimes that is the game we must play."

"I know. House Genary is safer with Kilsa in it. Deverell served his house and crown well."

Seline reached over their table and touched his hand. "I'm sorry for you, Harkinian. But you should try to be happy with her. I'm sure she means well and only has what's best for you in mind."

"Who said I'm not happy?"

Seline gestured to the apartment around them. "This place looks the same as it did when we were thirteen. No woman has ever touched your decor. And, given lack of female items in your washroom, I would dare a guess that she hasn't spent much time here in any capacity.

"Plus, you aren't wearing a ring and you, Harkinian, are as traditional as men come."

He drew his hand back. "Did the Tower teach you to be that observant?"

"No, my family did. I have the same training as she does."

He regarded her for a long moment. "You are nothing like her. So, what about this news from the Tower? What was so important that you had to come all this way?"

"There are threats against you from very dangerous sources."

"That we know," he said. "My father has a private guard watching me at all times."

"This is much bigger than you might think. People coming to the Tower have spread word that the Outcasts, spell casters not trained by the Tower, are working with nobles within both our governments. To what end, I don't know. But my father and the Tower knew your father was not well and if an assassin reached you...the power vacuum would be enormous. A power cabal with rouge spell casters behind them would stand primed to seize control of Hyrule."

Harkinian was quiet for a full minute. He suddenly understood why the First Knight had assigned Leita to him without complaint. "Do you have any idea who these people are?"

"No." Seline shook her head. "But if we don't find them soon, I'm afraid they will find _us._"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Drink this." Glenn took the proffered glass. He glanced up and nodded his thanks to Jarn.

The two men were in the Knight's small inn room. Outside the rain had picked up and now tapped quickly against the windowpane.

Glenn took a slip of the warm liquid, pulled back, and looked at the cup. "Tea?"

Jarn shrugged. "You can go downstairs if you want something stronger, but I would recommend we both leave this town soon."

"Yer lookin' into the Fist, same as me?"

"Some of our Heralds in Calatia have told us about the Fist, and some of the less public things they've been engaging in. I was one of the few Knights left living the southern area of Calatia so the First Knight sent me to investigate."

"Aye," Glenn said. "Our captain of the guard have been lookin' into 'em for a while. They've been inchin' into Hyrule and doin' business with our merchants, but I didn't think you Knights looked into stuff like this."

Jarn sat across from him and gave him a weary look. "We don't normally. And no longer have the resources we once enjoyed, but for the Fist we made an exception. We believe they have been trafficking in people. Slaves."

"What? In this day and age? Impossible."

"Hyrule may have outlawed slavery, Glenn, but that doesn't mean other parts of the world have. Calatia looks the other way as long as they don't have to see the ships coming into port. Faran does it openly. If you have the money, you can buy and sell people in most major cities there.

"It happens, I'm sad to say, but we haven't seen organization like the Fist in a long time. The men running the Fist are not backroom traders, but rich upper class members of the nobility. They have power and influence to buy the favors needed to conduct this sort of business."

Glenn closed his eyes and tried to stop the room from spinning. He suddenly felt in over his head. Two hours ago he didn't know the Fist was engaged in anything close to this huge. "So, what do we do? Can ya get word to yer fellow Knights and bring them down?"

Jarn smiled. "Doesn't work that way. I want to collect enough proof of what they are doing. I'll pass it to our Heralds and they will make sure the public sees all of it. No one will do business with them after that. If you want to stop powerful people, Glenn, simply take away their power. Without that, they are just mean little men."

"Oh." Glenn thought for a moment of the stories his father used to tell him of Knights and their brave battles. "What about those two wizards?"

"That, I don't know," he said. "I was tracking the same commanders you were when I sensed the wizards here. I searched and found them getting ready to attack you. They were with the Fist though. I'm sure of it."

"So the Tower is in on it, too?"

Jarn shook his head. "Doubtful. The Tower isn't a moral compass for the world, but this doesn't read like them. Plus I would have sensed if they had taken Tower oaths. Those were Outcasts, people the Tower didn't want or couldn't train.

"Listen, Glenn, you've done your duty here. Report back to your captain that the Fist are bad people and the guard shouldn't let them anywhere near the border."

For a moment Glenn felt like running out the door and not stopping until he was safely behind the walls of Hyrule Castle Town. But he wasn't a child listening to his father's stories anymore. He was an officer in the Hylian army.

"No," he said. "I want to help."

* * *

After Jarn packed his few supplies, the two men slogged through the rain to Glenn's small rented room. The younger man quickly threw his possessions in a travel sack and readied himself to leave town. 

"The Fist will notice their wizards missing soon," Jarn said. "I don't want to be anywhere near when they do."

"What are we going to do next?" Glenn asked.

"Go to Calatia. The land baron for the region just across the border is only a couple weeks ride from here. The Fist would have to go through him one way or another to operate there. If he's in their pocket, he'll have the proof I need. If not, maybe we'll find a useful ally."

"What are ya hopin' to find?"

Jarn took one of Glenn's two bags from him and fell in step as the guard walked to the door. "Despite people not wanting to know about it, trafficking is complex. There would be ship logs, money receipts, route maps, that sort of thing."

They started down the stairs to the lower level of the inn. "Them things ain't gonna be layin' out in the open."

"No, they won't. I don't expect this to be easy."

Glenn and Jarn retrieved their horses from the stable and started southwest. The rain continued to fall and now thunder rolled overhead. It was late in the day and the prospect of spending the night in the elements did not appeal to Glenn. Jarn however just pulled the hood of his simple brown cloak up and seemed not the notice the weather.

Glenn tried to take stock of his new companion, judging this Knight of the Triforce. While Glenn rode a simple gelding the palace had provided, Jarn had a well-groomed mare that he seemed very familiar with, even calling it by name. His horse and armor both looked expensive, but Jarn didn't hold himself like a noble.

His accent was southern Hylian, but his boots and cloak showed signs of heavy travel. Time again, Glenn found his gaze pulled to the sword at the Knight's waist. If the horse and armor were expensive, the sword was beyond priceless. The stories said their swords possessed magic and could cut through steel without slowing.

He thought about the way Jarn had sent the wizard's power back toward the caster.

They crossed the Jidra River at dusk and continued into Calatia without slowing. After a time the rain began to lessen to an easy drizzle.

"You're from back east, are you?" Jarn asked.

"Aye. Brounba."

Jarn nodded. "I've been out there. I recognized your dialect. One can always spot an eastlander. Is this your first assignment?"

"Aye," he said again.

"I'm surprised you didn't get sent back to the badlands."

"Would have gone in a split," Glenn said proudly. "It's rough out there, but it's where men are made."

Jarn smiled grimly. "There are better ways of making men." They rode in silence for a few minutes. "Have you ever seen a Knight before? I noticed you staring."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. There aren't many of us around anymore. When I was little, there were over two hundred of us in the world. Now, only a few dozen. Fewer being born every year."

"Why?" Glenn suddenly felt privy to secret information.

"No one knows," Jarn said. "Some think it is just our time. I'm sure you have questions; go ahead and ask. We are going to travel together for some time."

Glenn thought for a moment, wondering if the offer was serious or if he would offend the Knight. "Are the stories true?" he finally asked. "What they say about you?"

"Some of them are," Jarn said. "I haven't done battle with any gods lately, but as you saw back there we can combat magic. We can repel it, cast limited amounts, and dispel it. The Knights maintain a balance of nature with the wizards and witches of the world. They are on one side, we are on the other."

"So if we find more rouge wizards with the Fist..."

"Then one of my kind is who you want to be behind," Jarn finished for him. "Outcasts are hard to read. There is very little organization with some holding allegiance only to their teacher. Mostly they keep to themselves, staying away from the Tower's sight.

"This is important, Glenn. If something happens to me, you have to tell the Tower of Magic that some of the Outcasts are working with the Fist. Get word to them before you even report back to your king. The Tower, for all their faults, will be next in line to handle this threat."

"Why don't we just go to them first, then?"

Their horses splashed through deep puddles of muddy water. "Because the Tower would send squads to kill all involved, Fist and victim alike, and then bury the whole thing from history. And people need to know about this. When atrocities of the past are forgotten it opens the door for the guilty to commit them again."

Glenn nodded in the fading light and realized just how much he had to learn from the Knight.

* * *

On Seline's request, Deverell kept the dinner in her honor small. He hastily cleared the great hall of all but one table allowing King Gareth Genary to host only his son; Kilsa Genary; and Seline, the guest of honor. Oil lamps turned low and fires burnt down to embers in the hearths shrouded the large chamber in deep shadows and allowed a cozy feel at the lone table. 

Gareth remained seated when Harkinian and Kilsa led Seline in. It struck her how much the king had aged since she last saw him. A strong barrel chested man in his youth, Gareth was now a painfully thin shadow of his former self. Blue eyes, no longer piercing in their intensity, peered up at her through bushy gray brows. Last she remembered, Gareth had a thick white mane combed back to fall to his shoulders, but now only wisps and liver spots remained.

Twelve years had inflected its damage, she thought, but the fever's price was by far worse. It turned a strong and bold man weak and frail.

Seline came forward and took the king's hand. "Your Majesty, it is so wonderful to see you again."

His grip was weak and his bones felt fragile in her hand. Using a delicate touch, Seline reached out with her gift and scanned him with magic. She caught glimpses of confusion, anger, and an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. She felt suddenly as though death was sweeping toward her and she was unable to move out of its way.

"You are as lovely as ever, Seline," Gareth said. His voice surprisingly strong given his frail body. "And a fully trained witch now. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, sir."

"Yes, Harkinian has been going on about your accomplishments for days now," Kilsa said. Speaking slightly louder than normal as though Gareth was hard of hearing.

The princess of Hyrule was a tall fine bone woman with dark hair pulled back into an elaborate braid. She wore a dress of deep blue that played well off her alabaster skin. Sharply trimmed eyebrows arched over cunning hazel eyes. A slight southern accent touched her voice, but was buried underneath careful word pronunciation. She reminded Seline of the girls she attended school with; intelligent women trained for ruthlessness within the political realm.

"Well, Harkinian has always flattered me," Seline said, releasing Gareth's hand. "After he outgrew pulling my pigtails, that is."

Harkinian gave an embarrassed smile and pulled out two chairs. The two women sat beside each other and Harkinian next to his father. As though on magical cue, servants bearing plates of food began circling the table.

"I've ordered delicacies from Calatia be served tonight," Gareth said. "I can only imagine how long it has been since you've eaten properly."

Seline nodded her appreciation. "Very true. At the Tower they believe in a strict diet of only vegetables grown on the grounds. Modesty being the first step to wisdom."

"I am glad I was not cursed with magic," Kilsa said. "I don't think I could bear years of being cloistered in that museum."

Seline turned to her, catching the scent of the princess' rose perfume as she did so. "Were you schooled there during your secondary years?"

"Mercy, no," she said. "My family opted for the Harcourt School instead of the traditional Tower education. Better wine cellar." She smiled.

The first course consisted of lelt soup followed by stuffed veal served with white gravy, mushrooms chopped with cienuts, and roasted red potatoes. Seline ate little, knowing that at least four more courses were to follow. State dinners, even a small one, demanded it. The familiarity of it all settled in around her, but she did long for the simple meals of the Tower. There food was a tool to keep a body running, not an excuse for extravagance.

As her fourth plate left the table and Seline knew the polite prattle was out of the way, she turned to Gareth. "Your Majesty, unfortunately my visit here isn't entirely for the wonderful food."

The king nodded. "My son told me of your fears, of a magic trained assassin."

"Yes," she said quickly. "And he told me you've already taken action to find those responsible. Now that you have confirmation, we can finally expose these plotters as the traitors they are."

Gareth pushed his unyielding frame forward. "I have a Knight guarding my son, nature is now _my_ assassin, and I don't see what more we can do."

Seline blinked. "I'm sorry, I thought I'd made myself clear. With your permission, I'm going to contact the Tower and have them send squads. No matter how powerful or influential the houses are, they _will_ answer our questions."

The reaction was immediate. Kilsa spoke first, "Absolutely not! You might be some sainted school chum, but that does not give you a right to invite people like that into our home." Gareth shook his head insistently. And Harkinian opened and closed his mouth silently, as though trying to find the right words and not wishing to speak over Kilsa.

"Daughter, please," Gareth said with a tired firmness. A guard dog pulled back, Kilsa quieted and sat back, her gaze moving rapidly between the king and prince. "Seline, I know you mean well, but involving the Tower in Hylian matters is not the answer."

"I didn't know about this, father."

Seline was stunned. "I don't understand the problem. The Tower only wishes to help. We aren't asking for anything in return."

"We?" Harkinian asked.

"Seline," Gareth began, "I understand you've trained at the Tower for many years, and that it is located in Calatia so your policies are different--"she moved to speak but his tone stopped her--"but Hyrule has always maintained a separation from the wizards. And while I'm sure several squads would be able to help us, that is not the way our matters are handled."

Seline shot Harkinian a confused look. He stared back helplessly. "Is this because Hyrule houses the Knights? The Tower doesn't hold that against you."

"I wasn't aware that was an affront to be forgiven," Kilsa said coldly.

"I didn't mean to imply that. Please, Your Majesty. Harkinian, let me help."

Harkinian shook his head. "I don't think so."

"I see," Seline said. "I apologize if my offer offended."

"Not at all," Gareth said. "I do appreciate your concern for my son."

Seline glanced down and then back up to the king. "Even without the aid of the Tower, I will help you in any way possible."

"You intend a long stay then?"

"Kilsa," Harkinian said.

"Not long, no," Seline said. "The Tower believes Outcasts are plotting against both our governments. Before returning home, I hope to learn more of their origination. A name of their leader, if the Light wills it."

"Hinart will be happy to have you home again," Gareth said. "He will find a responsible young woman has grown in the place of the girl he sent away."

Seline smiled thinly and noticed Harkinian staring at her.

"You should speak to Leita," he said. "My guardian Knight. I'm sure they keep information on the Outcasts."

"I will speak with her, but I doubt a Knight of the Triforce would help a witch from the Tower. We don't look fondly on the Assassins of Magic."

Kilsa cleared her throat.

"You still have several days yet," Harkinian said. "I'm not ready to see you off again so soon."

"You'll have to plan a visit to Calatia once all this unpleasant business is behind us. I would love to show you the floating city of Ti'Crii, Kilsa."

The princess didn't smile. "Sounds lovely."

The rest of dinner passed quietly and with an air of awkwardness. Servants brought dessert followed by warm after dinner tea. Gareth and Harkinian filled her in on the latest gossip from families shared by Hyrule and Calatia. They told her of all the weddings, birthdays, and deaths she missed while at the Tower. She and Kilsa spoke of the royal wedding and of a vacation in Ti'Crii that both knew would never happen.

Seline felt a sudden distance from this family that had always provided a second home in her youth. She understood what her secondary teachers, those outside of the Tower, had said about the changes in the world that were coming. No longer was she the privileged little girl on holiday that secretly had a crush on her best friend.

Princess Seline was a Witch Woman, a Conjuror of the Fourth Order, and disciple of the last great prophet Ezekal Homes. She knew what she had to do.

* * *

Knight Leita stepped from the shadows of the corridor outside the great hall and followed close behind as Prince Harkinian and Princess Kilsa walked back to their respected apartments. She moved silently down the deserted halls, keeping to the walls and the pools of darkness between oil lamps. 

She'd spent the past several hours watching kitchen staff scrubbing plates and platters and listening to the singsong drivel that passed for polite conversation between nobles. Officially bodyguards didn't hear any business discussed by their charges, and she didn't expected the First Knight to ever debrief her about inside secrets, but Leita was disturbed by the thought of wizard squads stomping through Hyrule.

With the presence of the Knights of the Triforce greatly reduced throughout the world, it frightened her that the Tower could grab even more power. How long, she wondered, before they turned their eyes on the Triforce itself?

It was possible that before Harkinian finished his rule as king, the Knights could fade entirely. And she'd seen in him little of the backbone needed to stand against the Ruling Council should they move into Hyrule.

Princess Kilsa was a harder read. Leita was sure she had the guts to deal with an external threat such as the Tower, but it was impossible to say what the princess even saw as a threat. She kept her cards so close to the chest.

As was their nightly ritual, Harkinian and Kilsa stopped at an intersecting corridor. He kissed her cheek and wished her a pleasant evening, then moved to finish the walk to his apartment. Down the second corridor was her private apartment.

"Harkinian?" she asked. Sometimes she did that, Leita noticed.

"Goodnight, Kilsa." It was his standard reply.

Leita didn't understand nobles and she certainly didn't understand the royal couple she found herself shadowing. While she wasn't the most experienced individual when it came to sex, she wasn't a blushing virgin either. Harkinian was handsome enough and Kilsa was beautiful by many standards, yet they lived as far apart as possible while still occupying the same wing of the castle. At first she thought Harkinian was one of those men that didn't like girls, but that didn't fit with him either.

Why marry someone you didn't love?

As she did every night, Kilsa stood at the mouth of the corridor and watched as Harkinian made his way to the staircase leading to his apartments. Leita caught sight of the two stationed guards at the end of Kilsa's hall, gave them a nod, and hurried after Harkinian.

Now sure he wasn't going to alter the normal routine, Leita drew slightly closer to him. Doing so, however, she didn't see Kilsa suddenly turn and walk back the way they came.

Pausing at the top of the landing, Harkinian pulled at the collar of his dress coat and sighed. "This night turned out to be much more complicated than I first thought," he said to her without turning. "I suppose you heard all that?"

Leita raised a brow. "I am not your counselor," she said bluntly. "I am simply a line of steel and magic around you."

Harkinian laughed slightly and leaned against the stone wall. "I thought I knew everything about that woman...and now I don't know. She 'represents' the Tower of Magic now. The Leany I knew would never have brought spell casters into politics."

Leita wisely kept silent.

"I don't suppose you could go back to the great hall and retrieve a bottle of wine for me?"

"I could send a servant."

Harkinian shook his head and pushed off the wall. "Good night, Leita."

The prince opened the door to his chamber and walked inside. Leita adjusted the sword at her hip and settled in for a long night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Kilsa didn't slow as she moved down the halls of the palace. Her dress billowed around her legs as she half ran back to the great hall. She didn't think the dinner with Princess Seline would ever end. The sudden idea of having wizard squads come to Hyrule threw her plans into turmoil. She needed to reevaluate because she had no desire to hang in front of the Ruling Council.

He was still waiting for her when she arrived at the hall. King Gareth sat at the head of the empty table on the dais, smoldering rolled tobacco held weakly in his fingers.

"How in the world did the Tower involved itself?" Kilsa demanded without preamble.

"Daughter," he said warningly.

"There is no one to hear us now," she hissed. "Did you know it could come to this?"

"Of course not. And calm yourself because no squads are going to come into Hyrule." Gareth drew a shuddering breath and then took a drag of his tobacco. "The Tower has nothing more than rumors. Rumors that _we_ started."

"I think it is time to end this," Kilsa said. "These spell casters cannot be trusted. The Tower must have learned of this from them. We've met our ends. The houses have quieted under words of a threat against the throne and with rumors of the Tower becoming involved in the investigation, no one would dare hatch a real plot. Harkinian's rule is all but assured."

Gareth's old eyes pinned a cold look on her. "This has always been about more than my son. For too long we have let the royal houses determine the fate of this country. Intermarriages and assassinations have quelled the rising of smaller homes. I chose you especially because of your sensitivity to that fact.

"It is time for a new world order. I have committed years of my life and several fortunes to building the Iron Fist. Political games will be a thing of the past and I will see security for both Hyrule and its neighbors."

Kilsa sat across from him and stared at the table's finish. "It seems as though too many people are asking questions."

"That is to be expected. When the time is right, daughter, you will see that we are not without friends in the Tower of Magic. There are many that agree this old system cannot stand and see the benefit of helping the rise of a new order."

Kilsa finally looked back up the aging king. Inside his weakened body was the visionary that led the largest country in the known world for so many decades. He'd won wars with his tactics and prevented a vast number more with his backroom ruthlessness. She was still not convinced, however, that he could pull off a global coup d'etat. Over a year ago, when he and his inner circle had unveiled the plan to her, it hadn't seemed as real as it did now.

"Meet with Gabriel," Gareth said. "Tell him about Seline and that the Tower wants to start an investigation. He might feel it is time for our operatives within the Tower to move. And, he might assure your confidence better than I."

Kilsa made a face. "That man is a pig."

"That man is a wizard," the king reminded her. "If the remains of the Knights offer any objection to our order, it's his kind that will tip the balance in our favor."

"If Leita is the example, that's the one thing I'm not worried about."

"Still, talk to him tonight and then put your mind at ease. There is nothing linking the Fist to us. And within a year's time, it won't matter at all."

* * *

"Well this is something I don't see very often." 

Princess Seline jumped at the sound of Leita's voice. Getting past the guards a level below was easier than walking down this seemingly empty corridor. She turned to see the Knight standing at the mouth of the hall. "Excuse me?"

"Visitors," Leita said. "Especially bearing gifts."

Seline glanced at the bottle of ambrosia in her hand. "A peace offering of sorts."

Leita nodded and looked at the closed apartment door. "I'm sure."

"You don't approve of me, do you?"

"I don't see why a person like you would care about that."

"A witch or a princess?"

A wicked gleam flashed in Leita's eyes. "A woman that brings a bottle of alcohol to a married man's quarters in the middle of the night."

Seline raised her brows in surprise. "You are very lucky I learned humility during my training. In my country it is exceedingly impolite to speak to the monarchy that way."

Leita gave a slight bow at the waist. "And in mine those that speak truth to power are valued. But, my apologies if I offended."

"Thank you." Seline considered the younger woman for a moment. Wondering briefly what sort of student Leita would make at the Tower. "I wonder in your world if the greater the power the greater the need for truth?"

"I believe so," she answered. "Greater the power the higher the likelihood of corruption. The only way to combat that is through truth. With justice there is no corruption, without truth there is no justice."

"If only the world were really that simple."

"With all due respect, Princess Seline, I have found those that bemoan a lack of simplicity in the world secretly seek to make it complex, or at least see it that way, so they are free from doing the right thing."

"Do all Knights feel as you do?" Seline asked.

"You'll have to ask them. I can only give you my opinions."

Seline smiled. "You know without help from the Tower, you just might be our best chance for uncovering the spell casters behind this plot."

"No. The Knights do not involve themselves in political plots. I can keep Harkinian safe from a magical attack, but I will not fight some sort of internal war for him. I'm here to protect not to serve."

"That's rather short sighted of you."

Leita shook her head. "The Knights are neutral and will always remain so."

Seline was silent for a moment, wondering just how much the First Knight shared with his brethren. "I hope you are right, but there are those that see signs in the world that speak of a change. 'In the end there will be one last Knight that will help overthrow the Gerudo King.'" She quoted the preamble to the path of sins prophecy.

Leita stared at her with a stone face. If she believed in the prophecy, or even knew of it, she gave no outward clue. Seline was tempted to try a light magical probe, but was unsure how sensitive Knights were. According to the Tower's training, Knights could only sense within their line of sight. Unbound by the Tower's code, Leita could easily lash back.

"You should see to that peace offering before the prince turns in," the Knight of the Triforce said. "It's already very late."

Seline took two steps backward before turning and continuing to Harkinian's apartment.

"Princess," Leita called and Seline glanced back. "Despite my neutrality, Harkinian seems like a nice man. I wouldn't want to see any harm come to him."

"He's my oldest and dearest childhood friend," Seline said.

"I don't think either of you are children anymore." Shadows pulled around Leita again hiding her from view.

* * *

The sheer number of hidden passageways in and out of Hyrule Castle spoke of its history with coups. As she moved through the narrow stone passageway, Kilsa reflected that this just might be the reason for Gareth's wish of a new world order. In her hand she held a lit oil lamp, casting a flickering light down the seemingly endless tunnel. Wet straw and slime squished underneath her thin slippers. 

Since her indoctrination into the Iron Fist, this was the method of contacting their official on the 'outside' -- the necromancer Gabriel. Before slipping into the passage, as usual, she'd lit two candles in the second window of the second highest tower. That signal brought him to the small forgotten washroom behind the stables that this tunnel led to. How he always saw the signal and beat her to the rendezvous point she did not know, and, quite frankly didn't want to.

Reaching the end of the passage, Kilsa pressed her shoulder to the stone wall and pushed. Her feet momentarily slipped but suddenly the wall started to give and push open. The smell of horse dung and hay suddenly filled her nose. The door scrapped across the ceiling as it slowly opened. Mortar, crumbling with age, fell in flakes around her. Kilsa felt one large piece fall down the neckline of her dress.

A large dark skinned hand appeared at the lip of the door and took most of the load off her. The door swung open and Kilsa found herself face to face with Gabriel.

Tall, completely bald, and powerfully built the necromancer carried himself with an air of self-confidence that she would normally have found appealing. Dark eyes found hers and somehow made her feel small. Before meeting him, Kilsa had never understood when people said they saw magic in a spell caster's eyes. Deep in his was magic the swirled like a thunderstorm.

He was dressed in simple brown trousers and brown vest with a black tunic underneath it. He stood close enough for her to feel heat rolling off his body; one hand still gripped the doorframe above her head.

"Do you mind?" she said, refusing to let him intimidate. She was princess of Hyrule; no one was above her.

He smiled a suggestive grin and stepped back. "Not at all, ma'am." His voice was a rumbling baritone.

Even with the extra room, the washhouse was tiny and cramped. Many years worth of dust and dirt littered the floor and rusty tools hung from wall hooks. She wasn't sure which would take longer to scrub off her skin the washhouse or Gabriel.

"You wished to see me?"

Kilsa nodded. "There's been a development," she said. "Princess Seline of Calatia is here. The Tower of Magic has heard of the threats against Harkinian and wish to investigate."

Gabriel raised a thick eyebrow. "I haven't heard of any of this."

"Well, it has happened." Kilsa told him all that Seline said of bringing wizard squads in to question the houses and find the Outcasts that are helping the nobles unseat Gareth's son. "How long do you think you would last during that, Muscles?"

Gabriel thought for a moment. "Gareth didn't agree to this?"

"Of course not! But he doesn't see that even when Seline leaves, she is going to take all these questions back to Calatia with her. Back to the Tower and back to her father. Unless there is something you and Gareth haven't told me, King Hinart didn't buy into your plan."

"No, he didn't. Obviously he never sent word of it to his daughter, either. He must not have realized Gareth went through with it."

"That's conjecture," Kilsa said. "If you ask me, that witch-bitch knows much more than she lets on."

Gabriel nodded. "It is the Tower's way. King Gareth doesn't believe we should pause for a while?"

"No. If anything, he wants to move faster. This has spun out of control. I thought he would just use the invented threats against the throne to scare the houses into submission, but now if he isn't careful we will all hang in front of the Council."

Gabriel shook his head. "The Iron Fist needs more time to spread out. The final stages will require force against Calatia's ruling party. Not to mention our people aren't in complete control of the Tower yet -- and we won't be for some time. You must tell him we cannot yet proceed."

"I think you should tell him," Kilsa snapped. "I already tried."

Gabriel gave a solemn nod. "I will do just that, but first Princess Seline must be dealt with."

Kilsa eyed the dark skinned man cautiously. "If you are thinking of killing her here, that is a sure way of drawing the Tower and King Hinart down on us."

"That won't happen," Gabriel assured. "I'll deal with her quietly when she's away from Harkinian and his Knight guard. There won't be a body left for anyone to find. As far as Harkinian will know, she simply left without informing him. As far as the Tower will know, she never made it to the palace. If she is here on official business, she has yet to send a report back to the Council."

"You're sure of that?"

"I would have sensed it. Still, to be sure, I'll send word to our woman in the Tower."

Kilsa sighed. "What about Gareth? He's determined to overthrow the royal houses sooner rather than later."

Gabriel gave her a hard look. "After his fever, many inside the inner circle began to worry about Gareth. He is a man closer to his end than his beginning. The Iron Fist took decades to put together. This has since the inception been a long strategy

"Many worried that Gareth would attempt the glory himself. The final stage should be commanded years from now by Harkinian...or, given his weaknesses...you."

The wick of her oil lamp hissed as his words hung in the air.

"What are you saying?"

Gabriel looked directly in her eyes. "I'm saying that the stability of Hyrule and Calatia is a matter of national security. If Gareth has forgotten this, and will not see it again, then drastic action is required.

"For the good of the country."

* * *

Laughter filled Harkinian's drawing room. The prince and Seline sat together on one of the room's three sofas, the bottle of ambrosia, now half empty, on the table in front of them. She had knocked on the door as he was readying himself for bed so his dress coat lay over the back of a chair and the laces of his tunic were undone. He'd turned the lamp wicks down casting a dim light through the comfortable room. 

Seline had kicked off her slippers and sat with one leg tucked under herself. Her toes played with the woven loops of carpet. "The Council never did find out," she laughed.

"I should hope not! The entire enclave would have been in trouble."

Seline's laughter thinned to a smile. "The Tower just wasn't the same after you left, Harkinian. Not nearly as fun."

"I doubt that very much," he said. "I always felt like I was playing catch up with you. I'm sure you and Bernide got into plenty of trouble after I was gone."

She shook her head. "Not that much. She was an apprentice healer and left on field training a year after you."

"You should have had some field work yourself by now."

"A couple of missions," she said with a wave. "Nothing exciting."

"No grand adventures hunting down Outcasts?" Harkinian poured himself another shot and filled her glass as well.

"Thank you. No, nothing like that. Besides, I believe the Outcasts, some of them anyway, might be useful to the Tower in the future." She took a slip, tipping her head back as the warm liquid slid down. "You know some even trained for a time with the wizards at the Tower."

"Hopefully those aren't the ones that are trying to kill me."

"They won't succeed."

Harkinian stared into his drink. "Don't tell anyone, Leany, but there are times I think it wouldn't be such a bad thing if they did."

"Harkinian..."

"I'm not a leader," he said. "I'm not. I listen to my father and Kilsa talk, about the court and families, and I realize I don't have what they have. I will be king one day, and I have no idea how I'm going to handle that.

"The royal houses want to assassinate me before I can take the throne. If that isn't a vote of no confidence, I don't know what is."

Seline reached out and touched his arm. "You will make a fine king. I feel that you will go on to something great. The noble families are only interested in their own power and their place within your court."

Harkinian nodded his thanks and swallowed more ambrosia.

"You know what I was thinking about during dinner?"

He smiled. "The Goron Inquisition?"

"Midsummer when we were seventeen."

Harkinian managed to hold a straight face for a moment before collapsing in sputtering laughter. "I find that hard to believe!"

She gave him sidelong glance and bit her bottom lip. "I was so nervous our first midsummer celebration. One free night for all the students of age at the Tower."

"If you were nervous, you hid it well," he said. "I, on the other hand, was scared out of my mind. And I did not hide it at all. What you ever saw in that fumbling eager boy I will never know."

"Well, if memory serves, we had some liquid courage that night as well." She topped off her drink. "Nothing as nice as this though. Jars of horrid stuff the enchanter students made."

He held his glass up to keep her from filling it. "'As well?' Did I miss something?"

"I thought of midsummer because you looked so unhappy over dinner. You shouldn't be so sad and alone."

"Seline..." Harkinian set his glass down and inched to the edge of the sofa. "It's been many years. I'm not the same seventeen year old boy you once knew."

She leaned forward and kissed him lightly. "And I'm not the nervous girl running off into the woods with a boy."

"I'm married now."

Seline ran a finger around the laces of his tunic and slipped her hand inside. "In our world, marriage is just a tool. The heirs to love are consorts and paramours. It has always been that way. You know that. If you didn't, you would not have married a woman you do not love just to secure your family's claim to the throne."

Harkinian put his hands on her shoulders and moved to push her away, but stopped and just held her at length. "Please, Leany..." Seline nuzzled his neck, working her way down to his collarbone. Against his will, a moan escaped his lips. Her hands began roaming down his chest. Fingers encircled one of his nipples and pinched him teasingly.

Somehow his hands moved from her shoulders to her back, grabbing fistfuls of her dress. She was almost in his lap now. Her scent, reminding him of midsummer when he was seventeen and carefree, filled his head. Against his will, he began to respond to her heat and the nearness of her body. She wiggled closer to him at the feel of his arousal.

She kissed him again and this time he responded. Her lips opened willingly to his probing tongue. She tasted like ambrosia and the past.

A voice in the back of his head warned him that from this he could not return. But Harkinian was tired of caring about that voice and all the things he could not have and pulled her to him...

* * *

Later, when the lamps burnt out and they had long since moved to the bedroom, Seline lay staring at the ceiling. Beside her Harkinian slept, one hand still on her sweaty thigh. The fog brought on by the alcohol had faded and she could again channel magic. She told herself that there were many reasons for this, least of which the fulfillment of prophecy written hundreds of years ago. 

Reflecting again on the midsummer celebrations of her youth, she remembered the female students clamoring for special potions to allow them to revel all they wished without fear of consequences. Even at a young age, Seline had known enough to drink hers before going off with Harkinian.

She'd been giddy then. A child in love with her long time friend.

She was older now and again needed magic to assure a desired outcome.

In the darkness, listening to Harkinian sleep, Seline focused magic and began weaving her spell...


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Glenn Tarmag raised the fieldglasses to his eyes and peered at the Calatian alcazar in the distance. "Aye," he said. "There are carts and armed men around 'em in the courtyard. Looks like Iron Fist to me."

Beside him Jarn lay among the tall razor grass and squinted in the dim half moonlight. "Well, our assumptions were right at least. How many wagons?"

"Ten," Glenn said. "'Bout three guards 'round each."

"I don't sense any spell casters, but I might not this far away. Let me see for a second."

Glenn passed him the glasses and hunkered down in the sharp grass. He and the Knight had traveled over three weeks almost non stop through rugged Calatian countryside to reach this land baron's estate. They kept from the main roads in case the Fist spread word among their merchant contacts to keep watch for a Knight and army man crossing the border.

"There's a port about five days from here," Jarn said. "Those wagons are either stopping here on the way there or on their way back from deeper in Calatia."

"If they are comin' from," Glenn asked, "could they have live cargo with 'em?"

"Possibly. Or they could just be guarding a legal convoy." He licked his dry lips. "I need to see the leader's log books."

"What about the baron?"

Jarn lowered the glasses. "Two of us; two potential caches of proof. You take outside and I'll take in."

"Are ya sure ya can get in?"

Jarn smiled. "Knights are oddly good at breaking and entering."

Two half moon walls loosely fortified the alcazar. Relying mostly on the rugged hilly ground to the north and east of the palace for protection, the open courtyard allowed for a greater number of wagons and tents than possible inside four high walls. Lit torches set around the main house provided abundant light within twenty feet of the structure, but left most of the courtyard in darkness.

As they drew closer to the alcazar, Glenn saw the occasional lamp swinging in the breeze from the captain's seat of the covered wagons. The sounds of a bedded camp filled the dark spaces. Men snored, grumbled, or quietly gambled near several small campfires.

The main house was only two stories tall, but was wide and had three smaller buildings behind it. Its stone finish painted the same reddish brown color as the land around it. The smell of smoke and cooked meat filled the air.

Just past the outer wall, Jarn pointed toward the wagons assembled tightly together and then touched the guard's shoulder. Glenn nodded a silent well wish and moved off alone. Keeping a hand on his sword to keep it from bumping against his belt pouches, Glenn ducked around the side of the far most cart and began working his way inward.

Glenn guessed that the caravan was heading inland and knew the lead wagon would wait at the northern end of the formation. Last cart in and first cart out. Despite the cool slightly salty air, sweat beaded on his brow. Thoughts of the Fist catching him without anyone ever knowing what happened to him filled his head.

This was good work, he told himself. This was what being in the army meant. He would help the Knights of the Triforce stop this trafficking ring and make his father and country proud.

Most of the open carts he passed were filled with lumber, used swords and spears, and worn grindstones. Glenn wondered if this caravan was legal after all and stealing the logbook would only serve to draw attention to Jarn.

Squatting lower, he quickened his pace. The sooner he found the book, the sooner he could escape back to the high ground.

Almost to the front, he started seeing wagons with tall wooden sides and a single rear door built into them. Thrown bolts locked them all. Two narrow windows on either side provided the only air inside. Curious, Glenn spared a glance over his shoulder and then stood for a view through the tiny window.

Inside he saw people. Chained to the walls were over a dozen men and women. All dark skinned and covered in rags. The odor of sweat, urine, and blood almost knocked him back a step. Then he saw her standing among all the others sprawled on the floor or huddled in corners. A woman, about five years older than him, clad in a torn and stained dress that did little to hide a strong well-developed body. Her jaggedly cut hair was held back with a frayed leather tie.

For a moment, he was sure she could see him and would call out for him to release her. But then he noticed her closed eyes and that her lips moved in silent song or prayer.

_Isobel_

The name hit him like a cuff to the jaw. It filled his head and made his body shake with demanded action. He didn't know where it came from or what to do. _Isobel. Isobel. Isobel._

Glenn's mind screamed to move, but his body wouldn't respond. He tried to focus on the logbook, the proof that would compel the stop to all this trafficking, but the image of the bolt on the wagon's door kept appearing.

When he was sure the First would find him standing locked in indecision, the sky suddenly exploded with light and fire. The concussion wave hit him and knocked him to the ground, breaking the spell. Wood and rock flew through the air and rained down around him. People and horses screamed in pain and terror.

Glenn rolled onto his back and looked at the main house. Fire roared from shattered windows and a massive hole now marred the side of the building. "Jarn?"

* * *

Leaving Glenn behind, Jarn sprinted across the outer courtyard to the main residence. Keeping to the shadows, he circled the wall and headed for the rear of the building. The layout of the mansion reminded him of the eastern palace and gave him an idea for getting inside without going near the lit torches. 

Finding the baron's chambers and then getting in undetected posed a challenge.

Peering around the corner, Jarn saw worn ruts in the soft ground leading to double wide mouth doors. The loading bay leading to the kitchen. Sighing, he moved past the doors to the other side of the kitchen. The smell told him he had found what he was looking for. Three feet above a pit dug in the ground was a metal chute that disappeared into the side of the residence. Black grime dusted the lip of the chute.

When he was eight years old, Jarn's job at the eastern palace was to scrub the refuge slide. The chute all wastewater, cooking oil, and food unsuited for compost went down. Judging by the look of it, the baron didn't have a little Jarn to clean his chute.

Crouching down, his boots sinking into foul mud, Jarn looked up the slide and tried to judge its width. Bracing himself against the lip, he hopped up and wedged his shoulders between the walls. Kicking his feet, Jarn found a solid purchase and began crawling upward.

His sword and belt knife clunked against he thick metal lining as he slowly moved hand over hand up the shaft. The stench of rotten food and gray water filled his nose until he could taste it in the back of this throat.

Ten feet up, Jarn came to a heavy steel trapdoor. Hoping no one on the kitchen's staff was cleaning late, he pushed open the door and pulled himself out of the chute. He found himself in a darkened kitchen, empty save for a cat balled in the corner. It hissed when it saw the Knight.

Glancing about, Jarn lightly closed the trapdoor and ventured deeper into the home. Massive wall hangings, the favored art of Calatian elite, hung along the stone corridor walls. The rock decor along with high placed windows reminded Jarn of a fortress instead of someone's home.

He found several open aired studies and drawing rooms filled with high priced art and leather maps of the world. Unless taxes when up substantially, the Knight doubted honest money bought all these things. The Iron Fist obviously paid well for eyes to look the other way of suffering and slavery.

Jarn discovered a marble staircase leading up at a sharp angle. Snuffed candles sat in wall sconces built into the upper landing. Back against the railing, he started up. His boots clipping against the marble. Jarn reached the landing just as an older man rounded the corner on his way down.

The Knight and servant stared at each other for a brief second before Jarn's training took over and he lashed out at the older man. He grabbed the man's elbow and pulled him into a knee to the solar plexus. As the wind left the man's lungs, Jarn drove the heel of his other hand into the base of his jaw. The servant's head snapped back and he collapsed unconscious.

"I'm really sorry," he said, lowering the servant down to the ground. "Sorry."

Leaving the man on the landing, Jarn continued deeper into the mansion. He found a couple of rooms with long conference tables and another studio filled with sealed crates. He ducked in and hid as two more servants in bedclothes passed.

Another hallway and Jarn came to a T-junction with doors down each passage. Two oak doors were down one and a single door with a gold knocker down the other. Jarn picked the hall with only one door.

He tried the knob and found it locked. Feeling as though he found what he was looking for, Jarn pulled his belt knife free and set the point against the frame where the lock met the doorjamb. Setting his teeth together, the Knight called the magic of his birth.

It exploded in his chest with a warm rush. Gooseflesh ran down his body. He smiled with exhilaration of it. This was the first time since saving Glenn he had used his power for fear if the Fist were tracking them, spell casters with them would detect it.

Focusing on the knife in his hand, Jarn let the magic flow into it. He gripped the hilt in one hand and placed the palm of his other hand flat against the handle's end. With a sudden burst of force he hit the handle and drove the knife blade straight into the wall. It passed cleanly and without slowing through the lock's bolt severing it in two. One half still in the frame and the other in the door.

Jarn recalled the magic and sheathed the knife. He then opened the door and stepped over the threshold.

He found himself in the sitting room of a large apartment. Traditional Calatian red furniture and thickly woven rugs decorated the chamber. The room was dark with the cooling remains of a fire in the hearth providing the only light.

To his right was a curved hall that he guessed lead to sleeping chambers, and directly ahead was an archway that opened to an office. Glancing down the hall, he headed for the office. Inside he found a large neatly kept desk made of holm wood. Sitting behind it, Jarn started looking through drawers.

This would be much easier if he just labeled it 'my evil scheme,' Jarn thought.

Pulling on the last drawer, he found it locked. Deciding the door trick would cause too much noise, he reached into a belt pouch and withdrew a woman's hatpin. Jarn was raised a Knight, but several memorable years in the eastern Hylian badlands had taught him other skills, magic not required.

He felt as the tumblers fell into place and with a soft click the drawer popped open.

Jarn immediately saw a leather satchel filled with rupees. Underneath that were handwritten notes detailing pickup and delivery dates. Most were three character abbreviations, but some of the names were of Calatian cities he recognized. Along side those were numbers and rupee amounts. Tucked along side that was a folded letter with the broken wax seal of the Iron Fist on its front.

Jarn gathered up the manuscript and letter and stuffed it in his tunic. Closing the drawer, he stood and started for the door. With luck Glenn would find the caravan's logbook and the numbers and drop-offs would match with the baron's records.

Emerging from the apartment, Jarn felt the sudden build up of magic a second before it slammed into him. He instinctively raised his hand to shield his face and took the blast along his left side. The light whited out his vision momentarily and the force lifted him from his feet. He flew across the hall and slammed into the stone wall.

Pain burned along his chest and knifed through him as he tried to draw a breath. Jarn blinked, trying to clear his eyes. He rolled onto his stomach and looked up.

A wizard with a long beard and clad in brown robes stood at the mouth of the hall. He smiled and raised his hand, fingers spread.

Magic came alive in Jarn, desperate to protect its master.

Blue tendrils of lightning flashed from the wizard.

Not having time to pull his sword, Jarn held both hands out, his wrists locked together.

The power changed course slightly and hit his palms. It pushed Jarn off his knees and back against the wall. White hot pain exploded in his arms. He could feel his muscles contract in on themselves. The smell of meat burning filled Jarn's nose and he realized his hands were cooking. He screamed as the lightning stopped and he dropped to his side, his arms twitching uncontrollably.

"And here I thought this was going to be hard." The wizard pulled a wand out of the folds of his robe.

Trying to gain control of his body, Jarn began crawling away from the wall. He knew he had to get up and get his sword clear or he was dead.

"_Venii_!" An arc of power fired from tip of the wand and screeched toward him.

The Knight dropped and rolled forward. The arc hit the wall and tore an foot deep gouge in the wall. Letting his momentum carry him, Jarn got his legs underneath him and sprang up. His sword came free with the sound of sharp metal against leather.

Lightning again filled the corridor.

Jarn twisted his wrists painfully and snapped the sword into a high guard position. Magic hit the blade and reflected throughout the narrow hall. Pulverized marble rained down until a fine dust floated over the floor like fog. Large chunks of wall exploded outward. Stray bolts cut across his body, searing his face.

Jarn backpedaled to the T-junction. The alcazar began coming alive around him. Men shouted in the distance and the mansion shook with the clamor of guards arming themselves.

The wizard came forward relentlessly. Magic flashed from his wand and lightning fired from his fingertips. Jarn twisted and turned as he attempted to block each attack. The corridors were too narrow and his injuries too severe to keep him from successfully sending the magic back at the attacker. The skin on his hands was peeling and blood ran down his legs to pool in his boots. He figured at least three ribs were broken.

Jarn ducked down a hall and enjoyed a brief moment without spells flashing his way.

"You can't hide," the wizard said. "You might have killed my apprentices, but I'm Tower trained and a member of the Second Order."

"Oh, Light." Jarn pushed off the wall and ran for the stairs.

Coming up the staircase he saw two Fist soldiers holding short swords and baldric of firecorns over their shoulders.

"No!" Jarn shouted. "Stay back!"

The wizard was suddenly behind him.

Jarn twisted and raised his sword to block the magic he knew was coming. Lightning flashed from both the wizard's hands. Jarn managed to catch four of the ten bolts but couldn't stop the others from flying right into the path of the two soldiers.

The two boys, barely sixteen, and looking ill equipped holding those swords and bombs took the blasts head on. Magic lifted them from their feet and they screamed in agony as magic tore through them. Lacking any sort of magical protection the bolts vaporized their flesh and armor and shattered bone. The boys hung in the air for a moment and then fell lifelessly down the stairs.

"You son of a bitch!"

The wizard shrugged. "See what you did by coming here? You Knights need to mind your own business. The world isn't yours anymore. It belongs to a new breed, a new order. I found and killed you, and I'll find and kill your companion." Again he raised his wand.

The wounded Knight in that moment knew what he had to do. He thought of Glenn still trying to find proof. In his short time with the young soldier, he saw promise and a sense of duty in the eastlander. It was that duty that hopefully would carry him to the truth and expose the Fist.

It was in his hands now.

Jarn dropped his sword and dove for the stairs. He hit hard and rolled down the last half, coming to a rest near the remands of the child soldiers. Moving in a blur of magically enhanced speed, the wizard appeared on the landing. Magic was already crackling around the wand tip.

Jarn grabbed one of the baldrics of firecorns and flipped the trigger on all seven. He pulled his arm back, only half noticing that his wrist was bent at an odd angle, and threw the seven small bombs at the wizard.

He was reaching for the second baldric when the world vanished in blinding white light. And then the pain stopped.

* * *

"Jarn?" 

Shock and confusion rattled Glenn. He lay on his back watching as the alcazar burned. The explosion had ripped a hole in the side of the main building and spread fire throughout the first floor. Thick black smoke rose into the night. All around him people yelled and ran past. A bucket brigade was forming and no one seemed to notice Glenn.

He climbed unsteadily to his feet and watched with an open mouth as another explosion sounded deep within the structure. A part of him was waiting for the Knight of the Triforce to come walking from the flames, unscathed simply because he commanded it.

Moments turned into minutes and still no one seemed to notice him. And Jarn never appeared.

Glenn started walking to the brigade before his mind caught up with him and he remembered the logbook. The Knight needed that to stop the Fist, and had ordered him to find it.

Isobel and the other slaves momentarily forgotten, Glenn turned on his heel and broke into a run. He wove between wagons looking for the leader. The entire Fist company now working on saving the baron's home, no one saw as Glenn climbed atop the first cart and began searching. Stashed underneath the driver's seat, he found a steel box sealed with a lock.

Glenn pulled his palace sword free and began swinging at the lock. Sparks flew from where his blade met the box. Blood pounded in his ears and he was sure someone was about to stop him. He kept swinging again and again until suddenly the lock gave and dropped to the ground.

Panting, Glenn kicked the box open and saw a thick book inside with a leather band around it. He grabbed the book and jumped down. Not bothering to look back, he took off into the night. The rising fire brightened the sky behind him as Glenn ran away. Seventeen year old Glenn Tarmag felt as though something terrible had just happened and had no idea what to do next.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

During the blustery winter months along the Calatian cost, young Princess Seline's favorite thing in life was to make the long journey to Hyrule and spend time with her friend Harkinian. If she timed the trip right, the worst of winter would keep her stuck there for an extra month or two.

She loved walking through the dark parts of the foreign castle, exploring forgotten areas. One of the areas she spent the most time was King Gareth's private garden. Set away from the main proper, the massive grounds kept flowers and plants from all over the world. Stone benches were set randomly throughout the area and a complex irrigation system formed artificial brooks all flowing to a single drainage ditch in the center of the garden.

Even during the coldest time of year, life was abundant. Birds still flew among the trees and bugs burrowed in soft soil. It always smelled welcoming and safe there. Harkinian never appreciated the wonders of the garden, but Seline would spend hours there.

That was where Seline found herself presently. She stood near the far end of the garden watching the water flow down the natural runoff and empty into the drainage ditch. It passed through an old rusty gate, whisked into the Hyrulean sewer system.

She was alone in the garden, lost in the feel of life around her. Perhaps, she now concluded, her attraction to this place had to do with the life within it and her own latent magical skill. Now fully trained, she stretched out with all her senses and let the feel of it soak through her. She felt the air push against a dragonfly's wings, the warm sun against leaves, and the lichen clinging to the runoff hungry for more water.

She'd been there for a better part of the morning, meditating on the past few days. Both her missions, the one from the Tower and the one from the Outcasts were nearly complete. Within herself she could already detect the success of the latter. She truthfully didn't expect Gareth to accept the Tower's help, but she'd made the offer as ordered. There was a magical presence in Hyrule Castle, that much she could tell, but politically she couldn't imagine any house stupid enough to attempt an assassination on Harkinian now.

As formal representative from the Tower, she could claim some of that credit.

Still, she felt ill at ease. It was almost time for her to go. Her father thought she was spending the rest of the year at the Tower, and a letter left for Harkinian should convince him she was returning home, freeing her to go to ground for the next eight months. Out in the wild areas between Hyrule and Calatia the Outcasts and her old teacher would take her in. Such was their plan.

Seline knew she was a servant of destiny, but still felt as though she'd abused her friendship with Harkinian. She loved him, truly she did, but there were politics and world fate that she had to abide to. The Knights were dying, out in the desert the Gerudo tribes were uniting without any one noticing, and the prophet that foretold it all had chosen her.

Harkinian was not a political animal. Even as a child the basics of court life had escaped him. That innocence and honesty was what she loved in him, but it was also the handicap that would keep him from understanding what she'd done.

Later, when he was king of Hyrule and she queen of Calatia, perhaps she could explain and convince him to forgive her. Until then, however, she would have to live with his disapproval and hate.

Feeling a brush of power across her neck, Seline turned and studied the garden around her. She was no longer alone here. Wind rustled leaves and pine needles along the path, squirrels chirped in the trees, but she did not see the presence she felt.

"Show yourself," she called. "I know you're there."

There was a ripple of almost movement past a nearby tree. A cloak spell of some sort.

Seline channeled and lightning crackled along her fingertips. "By the gods I will defend myself."

"That isn't Tower trained talk, now is it?" A baritone voice said to her left.

Seline spun and let free a bolt at the tall dark skinned man. The magic passed harmlessly through him and shattered a tree in two behind him. The image of the wizard dissolved into sand.

"Nice trick," she said slowly turning. "One might almost say it was dark magic. Not exactly Tower either."

A throaty laughed filled the garden. "I think you and I have more in common than I previously thought," the disembodied voice said. "I've never known a Tower witch to attack first and ask questions later."

"Well, then," Seline said, "maybe you should come out and we can talk about it." She drew even more power and began weaving her own spells. Readying herself to use magic to kill.

* * *

Leita idly ran her thumb down the hilt of her sword, circled the bloodcatch, and then started back up the length. Her nail plinked against every ridged handgrip. She stood in the rear of one of Hyrule Castle's conference rooms watching as Harkinian ate lunch with two local barons. 

She exchanged a glance with two members of the royal guard stationed at the other end of the room. One, a sandy haired young kid, gave her a small smile and nod.

Leita smiled back. She liked the royal guard. Separate from the main army they solely protected the ruling monarchy. She was just a visitor, a guard against magical threats, but this was their life year after year. Another glance at the barons and what passed for interesting conversation between them, and she thought they should make a special medal.

Mentally, Leita checked the rest of the prince's schedule and remembered two more meetings and then dinner with Seline. The end of the day did not surprise her at all. The past week he'd been spending quite a bit of time with the princess. If Kilsa knew -- and Leita was sure she did -- she didn't seem to care.

Light, she did not understand these people.

Harkinian, for what it was worth, seemed happier than she'd ever seen him. Yes, she figured, these guards needed a medal for putting up with this silly drama.

In a blink Leita was suddenly at attention and she'd cleared the sword a few inches before realization caught up with her. Every cell in her body screamed with knowledge there was powerful magic nearby. Like a compass finding north, she turned until she was facing the direction of the disturbance. The large garden, she knew.

Across from her the other guards seemed completely unaware of the power storm brewing around them. To Leita it felt like the air itself was vibrating.

"Get the prince to safety," she called. "There's an attack down below. Take him to the throne room and keep him there." With that she was moving across the room to the tall windows overlooking the courtyard.

The guards, though young, knew their business and immediately began ushering Harkinian out.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded. "I don't hear anything."

"I can sense it." Leita jumped onto the window ledge and pushed the two panes open.

The barons came to their feet. "What about us?"

"You can tell this far away?"

"Yeah. Where have you been?" Leita put her hand on the frame and peer up and then down. Two stories below the court bustled and another three up the ramparts guarded the roof. She began calculating the fastest way to get to the other side of the castle.

"What about Seline?" The guards had him by the arms and were half dragging him out.

"There's two," Leita said. "I think she's one of them." She gave a nod. "I know. You have my word I'll do my best. Now go!"

With that she turned, gathered her strength, and jumped straight up to the roof.

* * *

The blast hit Seline's shields full on and knocked her back through the air. Branches and bramble snapped around her as she hit a group of trees and fell to the ground. She landed on her feet and sent a ripple of power at the necromancer. 

As though blown by wind, all the flowers and grass around the wizard whipped toward him. A vine lashed from above and roots burst up from the ground. Vines grabbed his legs, arms, and wrapped around his waist like a lover; branches took to the air and tried to find his eyes.

Gabriel twisted away with blurred speed. He jumped and took to the air, levitating ten feet into the smoke filled sky. He pulled free of the roots and thin tendrils of fire ignited around his body and burned away the vines. His eyes snapped open and Seline saw that they were entirely black.

"You aren't looking well," he said, his voice echoing.

Seline didn't doubt that. She felt ready to collapse while he still looked strong and composed. She'd expended a lot of energy these past few days altering her body chemistry for the upcoming months, and was in no condition to fight a powerful wizard.

"Well enough," she said. She gestured to a heavy stone bench and lifted it into the air. Taking a deep breath, she launched it at the necromancer. It shot through the air almost too fast for the eye to follow.

Gabriel held out his hand and brought it to a sudden stop four feet from where he hovered. The stone seat cracked with the built up pressure. Seline's hand shook as she doubled her effort to shove it into him. She might as well tried to push a cork through the bottom of a wine bottle.

The bench hung between them as a visual example of their force of wills.

"Now," he said, his rich voice slightly strained, "I expected more from a Tower representative sent here to kill me."

"You're the assassin?" she grunted.

He smiled at the try. "An agent, just like you apparently. Why don't you tell me who you work for, and I'll tell you who I work for?"

"I don't think so!" Seline cast out at the ground far beneath Gabriel's feet and sent a jet of dirt and rocks into the air.

The wizard yelled and tried to shield his face with his hands. His concentration broken, the bench resumed its flight. Gabriel let go of his levitation and dropped out of the way. The stone seat flew harmlessly overhead. It hit one of the rear vine covered palace walls and shattered into pebbles.

Gabriel landed and blinked his eyes clear. His gaze snapped to the destroyed bench and lifted the remains into the air. Several hundred small stones, some barely bigger than a dust mote, launched themselves with enough speed to cut through her like knifes.

Seline brought her hands together and ignited the air in front of her. Gritting her teeth, she pumped as much power as she could spare, heating the fire. Grass underneath the fireball withered and burned away and the cobblestones darkened.

She felt her limbs tingle and grow numb as the fire sapped the energy from her. She looked away as the hail of stone fragments flew into the tumult and it grew in brightness. Gobs of molten rock dripped to the ground.

The fire disintegrated with a flourish and Seline fell to her knees. The garden spun around her and she was certain for a moment that she was about to blackout.

"Let me explain to you your mistake," Gabriel said. "Combating magic is a tricky business. One can become so involved in countering a spell that he or she forgets their ability to channel is finite." He conjured a green ball of power in his right hand. "You should leave fighting magic to the professionals."

"You know," a new voice said, "I couldn't agree more."

Surprised, Gabriel turned to find himself face to face with Leita.

Without preamble, the Knight drew back and belted the wizard across the jaw. Lifted from his feet Gabriel flew a dozen feet away and came to a sliding stop. Leita started for him.

The wizard rolled onto his back and brought his hands up to channel. Leita was faster however. She straddled the spell caster and began pummeling him. Seline heard his head crack against the cobblestones.

Leita grabbed the front of Gabriel's vest and lifted his head off the ground. "Come on, magic man, let's you and me have a row."

There was a flash of green and the Knight jumped back.

Gabriel spat blood on the ground and pushed to his feet. "I'm a hundred and thirty years old," he said. "I was killing Knights back when it meant something to be one."

"Well then," said Leita, "it's a shame you won't get any older."

Lightning flashed between the wizard and Knight. Leita caught it deftly on the blade of her sword and let it go harmlessly into the ground. Two glowing balls of power crossed the distance and Leita, moving even faster than Seline's enhanced eyes could follow, knocked one into the open sky and sent the second back at Gabriel.

The necromancer locked his wrists and took the blast head on. It wrapped around his form and faded harmlessly from view.

"So tell me," Leita said. "How do I compare to my ancestors? I'm prettier, right? I bet I'm prettier."

Seline pushed to her feet. Swaying unsteadily, she tried to gather enough strength to help the Knight. Despite her attitude and aptitude, Gabriel was old and at least of the Third Order. He would not die easily.

The two slowly circled one another. "Didn't expect to see you," he said.

"Should have," Leita countered. "Should have known I was sent to deal with the threat."

"I'm not here for Harkinian. I'm here for her."

"Guess ya didn't get the news. Everyone here is under my protection." Leita lunged forward, her sword flashing.

Power spun into Gabriel's hands like a glowing staff and he brought it up to meet the attack. Leita's sword didn't slow as it passed easily through it, dispelling the magic. The wizard jumped back but not before the blade cut through his shoulder, opening a long gash. He screamed as the wound hissed and blistered.

As the Knight moved in for the kill, Seline saw the spell beginning to form around the necromancer. "He's teleporting!"

Gathering the last of her strength Seline sent a small fireball at Gabriel's head. It flew wide, but was enough to interrupt his concentration.

Leita seized the distraction and plunged her sword into the necromancer's chest. She ran him completely through. The sword exploded out his back and kept going into the ground. The Knight went to her knees on top of the wizard. "Who trained you?" she asked, her face next to his.

But the man was already dead and would never answer.

"Light!" she cursed.

The Knight pulled her sword free and sheathed it without cleaning the blood off. She ran to Seline and bent down. "Are you okay?"

The force of a wizard dying slammed into Seline. She felt the hollowness of the underworld swallowing him. Still she managed a nod. "How did you know?"

"I sensed it." Leita awkwardly supported the weak witch with an arm around her shoulders.

"T-that's not possible."

"Yes it is," Leita said. "We can do more than you Tower folk think. Are you sure you're okay?"

Seline tried to work moisture back into her mouth. "Just need to rest. Thank y--" That was all she managed before she lost herself in merciful sleep.

* * *

Kilsa felt like throwing up. Beside herself with fear, the princess paced her private chambers like a caged animal. Outside, she knew, a regiment of royal guards kept her rooms safe from danger, but they might as well been jailers. 

Thanks to Gareth they might indeed soon serve as her jailers. At least until the Tower came to hang her.

That bastard of an old man let greed and glory-seeking put the entire Genary family in jeopardy. Of course before doing so he brought her into the family. Why hang alone? Kilsa tugged painfully on her braided hair as she thought.

The plan would have worked, she knew. It was brilliant. In another ten or fifteen years when the houses again grew restless with a new generation biting for power, the Iron Fist acting under Genary orders would assassinate several key families. The Fist would also eliminate any that posed a threat to Hylian interests within the Calatian ruling class. And their people controlling the Tower would make sure the world understood the new leaders in charge.

House Genary had established the Fist with one primary goal: earn rupees. They made sure land barons, mayors, and merchants understood it was in their best financial interest for the Fist to lead the world's charge. And House Genary, with the Tower as muscle, made sure it was firmly in control of the Fist.

The sheer genius of it all aroused Kilsa. With Harkinian's name and her mind they would rule the known world.

And Gareth was set to ruin it all because he had to have it _now_. This was his legacy to pass on, not worldly wealth to squander before death. Her father taught her to play a long game to get what she wanted.

Kilsa stopped at a window and tried to think. She had to find a way to salvage this family and her place in it. If only Gabriel hadn't failed so miserably in killing the witch-bitch. Yet another thing people expected her to handle and solve.

If only Gareth would work with her!

Kilsa drummed her fingers against the window frame. She thought of what Gabriel said about those in the inner circle of the Iron Fist worrying about Gareth. What she wouldn't give to speak with those power brokers. Gabriel, however, was her only link to the Fist outside the walls of the palace. She was sure another would take his place, but could only guess how long that would take.

Gareth would attempt the assassinations, she was sure of it. Within months, weeks, or days. He didn't have long left and wanted to see his dream fully realized.

Harkinian had absolutely no clue what his father planned. Perhaps if she told him about the Fist, he could convince his father to turn the planning over to her where it belonged. No, she decided. Harkinian would want to involve King Hinart and expose the corruption within the Tower.

Kilsa was entirely on her own.

She thought again of her father. He trained her since birth to succeed within the political world. Ruthlessness, he knew, was sometimes the only way.

Feeling calm settle in around her, Kilsa turned back to the room and walked to her bureau. Among several bottles of scents she found an old ornate box with Old Hylian engraved along its lid. It said "Weakness next to the strong equals death." A wedding gift from her father.

She opened the box and found a simple silver ring with a winged runic signet on its face. Wishing things were different, Kilsa slipped the ring on and committed herself to protecting her family.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The first night after Glenn left the Calatian alcazar he traveled without stopping. Somehow he made his way back to where Jarn had hidden their horses. Riding his gelding at full tilt with Jarn's mare following riderless behind, Glenn headed west and put as much distance between himself and the baron as possible without killing the horses.

Jarn dying inside the mansion was so outlandish it seemed to Glenn like a dream best forgotten. He kept expecting to see the Knight following behind as he ran. Jarn was a Knight of the Triforce, a thing of legend. Surely they didn't die like normal people. Then he remembered all the fire and the sounds of the explosions.

He realized hours afterwards that his clothes still smelled of sulfur.

It was the end of the second day of travel when he finally stopped. Not even bothering to take the tack from the horses, Glenn found a hollowed out tree trunk, climbed inside, and collapsed asleep. Horrible dreams waited for him. Dreams of fire and pain and imprisonment.

_Isobel_.

He woke with an unfamiliar name on his lips. Gasping for breath, Glenn crawled from the log and discovered the sun had been up for several hours. The horses grazed, still saddled, nearby and looked in his direction as he stood and took stock of the area.

The land was relatively flat with most of Calatia's hills in the distance. A smattering of trees provided shelter from weather but no cover to approaching attackers. He was still close enough to the Great Sea to catch the scent of salt in the air.

Deciding this place was safe enough, Glenn began clearing the area of bramble and setting up camp. Uncertainty of how to proceed filled him as he went through the motions of building a fire and storing the horse tack. Up until now, he'd just followed Jarn. The Knight seemed to know what to do at all times and Glenn did his best to keep up.

It was then that Glenn found the logbook he stole from the caravan. He saw it sitting in one of the gelding's saddlebags where he must have dropped it during the flight. Picking it up, Glenn walked to his small campfire and sat underneath the hollowed out tree. He slipped off the leather band holding the book shut and began to read.

The first few pages of the large book were filled with maps of eastern Calatia and southern Hyrule. There were notations on the edge of the pages on route stops. Deeper inside he found a long list of names and places with monetary amounts next to them. Large amounts. Hundreds and sometimes thousands of rupees.

"I'm in the wrong business," Glenn muttered.

Toward the end of the book Glenn found private notes written by the driver of the caravan. Mostly he talked of weather conditions but there were also references to attacks on convoys not protected by the Fist. The idea, Glenn read, was to force merchants into signing with the Fist to gather protection for their wares. According to the praise from the driver, the plan worked because he was making money by the chest full.

There were references, but no names, to Hylian naval captains moving freight up from Faran. Glenn wiped sweat from his forehead. How many people did this group control?

Glenn sat for hours reading. Around him the darkness grew. The horses found spots to sleep and the fire worked its logs down to ash. He did his best to read between the lines and figure out the abbreviated names mentioned at each drop off.

His sense of isolation was enormous. Glenn was suddenly keenly aware that he was far from home and just a green lieutenant against a conspiracy of hundreds. He remembered what Jarn said about going to the Tower of Magic before anything should something happen to him. The Tower was far to the north, with mountains and few trails through them in the way.

It would take months of hard travel and the year was already half over. Arriving at the Tower in time for months of snow making travel out impossible did not sound fun to Glenn. If he rode straight back to Hyrule and showed the book to King Gareth that should spark at the least a public investigation. And the king could send word to the Tower.

But Jarn was a Knight of the Triforce and knew about things like this. He wanted the Tower to know before anyone else.

Glenn slipped the leather band back over the book and stored it again in the saddlebag. He threw another log on the fire and settled in for the night. First thing in the morning he would start for the stronghold of all the Knights detested. The Tower of Magic.

* * *

For the second time in two days, Princess Seline raised enough power to channel spells. This time, however, not to kill but slip away without anyone seeing. Some spell casters, she knew, were able to teleport by walking the loose line of reality where shadow met light, but she didn't have that kind of strength even on a good day. 

After the attack from that necromancer yesterday and the continual strain of what her body was adapting to, Seline was not close to a good day. What she was about to attempt required the skills of an enchanter. She, however, was a conjurer. With the exception of necromancy, most casters could work most spells but a natural gift for the taxon helped. Seline was about to do the equivalent of writing a book with her non-dominant hand.

Seline shouldered a small travel bag and took one last glance around her room. Most of her things brought with from the Tower would have to stay behind. Anything incriminating to the Tower or her Outcast group never made it here though. Her plan here always allowed for a quick exit. The only allowance she made was a note hidden that Harkinian might one day find.

She was again clad in the simple wool dress she wore the day she arrived at the castle. Over that a simple brown cloak.

Gathering what power she could spare, Seline walked to and opened the apartment door. Outside stood two members of the royal guard. They snapped to attention when they saw her. "Can we help you, ma'am?"

Seline let a tendril of magic free. "Go to sleep," she commanded.

Immediately their eyes rolled up and they collapsed in a heap. She stepped over them and continued on her way.

She kept her magic close to her chest, not letting her mind roam. The knowledge that Leita could sense magic in use from the other end of the castle was new and disturbing. According to her training, Knights couldn't detect magic outside line of sight. That apparently was a myth the Knight cultivated.

Not wanting Leita to try and stop her, Seline decided to limit magical use to _her_ line of sight. That meant she couldn't completely mask her getaway from the guards manning the watchtowers. In that she could only hope they paid more attention to those riding toward the palace instead of away from it.

Keeping her pace measured to avoid suspicion, Seline passed unnoticed through the palace proper as she entered the outer courtyard. Dressed as she was, many probably mistook her for another servant on daily rounds.

To those guards that did give her a second look, Seline magically let their gaze move past her.

Seline left the outer court behind and headed for the stables. This was not any different than her trials at the Tower or those under the instruction of the Wizard Homes she told herself. Harkinian would one day understand and might even be pleased.

A small corner of her mind laughed at that thought. Harkinian would feel betrayed and, if he ever learned the prophecy written about him, overwhelmed. Harkinian was many things, she knew, but he was not a fool. He would go through the things she left behind and find questions. Answers would only lead him closer to his prophesied death.

Seline suddenly felt much older than her years.

She circled around to the rear of the stables and found a stableboy cleaning out a stall. "Excuse me," she said, causing him to turn. "I need a horse suited for a long journey." Magic caught her voice and gave it an echo.

He blinked at her, still leaning on a pitchfork.

"You were told to get me a horse." The echo increased as her enchantment took hold

"Yes!" He nearly left his feet with realization. "This way, please. I'm just finishing now."

Seline trailed after him deeper into the stables. She glanced back making sure they weren't attracting attention. The hem of her cloak dragged through wet hay and mud.

The boy readied a solid looking mare with tack and walked it out of its stall. "Ginger will treat you well, ma'am. She's strong and likes to run."

"Thank you." Seline took the reins and swung herself into the saddle. "You did well," she said.

The kid beamed with pleasure. "Now return to your work and within moments you won't remember me. Know your master is pleased with you." She watched as the boy nodded and turned back to where she found him.

Wheeling the horse about, taking its measure, she gave it a light kick and started for the main gates. There were hundreds of people entering and leaving Hyrule Castle Town every day. Merchants, soldiers and servants going to work, people looking to spend money, towners, and gawkers. The bored men watching the gate never noticed the blonde woman dressed for travel atop a spry horse. Their eyes just seemed to pass over her without stopping.

* * *

Kilsa Genary didn't blink as she stared down at the wizen body of King Gareth. She stood in the private bedchamber of the ruler and watched as he struggled to push himself into a sitting position. Around her burned herbs and scent sticks. Bottles and jars of medicine decorated almost every spare shelf and rack. The room smelled old and musty. Thick drapes were pulled tight leaving the room dim even at midday. 

Behind her the door clicked shut as the nurse attendant left the princess and king in private. "This is just perfect," Kilsa hissed. "This entire palace has gone mad."

Gareth coughed once and finished pulling himself up. "Indeed it has gone well," he said. "Better than either of us could have imagined."

"I'd really like a couple of whatever you are taking," she said. "We have a dead wizard on the grounds! Our link to the rest of the Fist. A representative from the Tower of Magic did battle with our point man and a Knight of the Triforce killed him."

"Exactly." Gareth's eyes lit up. "Seline can now return to the Tower and tell them that the assassin they feared is dead. End of investigation. And to think I wanted a Knight to guard Harkinian just for show. Who knew those people still had uses?"

Kilsa tugged on her braid. "And the Fist?"

"A new liaison will contact you soon enough."

"And then we can put all this business behind us?" Kilsa asked. Perhaps the old goat wasn't as far gone as she thought. "The houses are quiet, Harkinian is secure, and our family is safe."

"Behind us?" Gareth seemed genuinely confused. "With nothing connecting us to the Fist or false plots within the houses, now is the time to act!"

Kilsa twisted the signet ring on her finger. "Gabriel felt as I do," she said. "He did not think the time was appropriate to advance our plans. With a little more time we could..."

"No," Gareth yelled. "It must be now!"

"Fine." Kilsa resigned herself to what came next. "I just hope the outcome lives up to your expectations."

"Don't fret, daughter," he said. "I've worked on this since before you were born. It will happen as planned."

"What about the Fist's representative?" she asked. "How will I contact the next one?"

"Allow for time," he said. "A month, maybe two, and again leave the signal in the second window of the second tower. He or she will see and come."

"Contingency plans atop contingency plans?"

"Exactly. You are not the only political planner here, Kilsa."

She gave him a tight smile. "Of course not. I just forget at times how good you were in the day." Kilsa held her hand out to him.

He wrapped his bony fingers around hers, encasing the signet. "And soon the world will know just how talented I _still _am."

Kilsa bent her ring finger slightly, activating a hidden trigger. "Get some rest, father. I'll see to Harkinian. He shall be my only concern from now on."

Gareth released her hand and settled back against the pillows. "He's all you ever had to worry about, dear. You do a marvelous job keeping him in line and away from our interests. You are a great servant to my country."

Kilsa's smile was genuine this time. She gave him one last look and turned for the door. "I'll send the nurse in to check on you," she said. Gareth was already falling asleep and did not hear her.

He was wrong about one very critical thing, she knew. There was no room for ego and showmanship in political maneuvering. The truly great ones affected change without anyone ever knowing...

* * *

King Gareth slept through the rest of the day and into the night. As the hours past and the nurses and aides checked on him, they never noticed the tiny drop of clear gel staining his right hand. Over time it slowly worked its way through his skin and into his blood. 

It would not have mattered, however, if he or any of the attendants spotted it. The gel, a powerful poison, contained enough venom to condemn Gareth before Kilsa even left the room. Weakness next to the strong equaled death.

Late that night the king stopped breathing and passed away alone. By morning the news spread and Harkinian carried the new title King of Hyrule.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Glenn Tarmag had a fever.

Riding low in the saddle, the young soldier gripped the mane of his horse as the waves of chills and shakes threatened to over take him. Six days had passed since Jarn's death and after at first making quick time over the roughening Calatian landscape, Glenn now moved at a tortoise's pace. He felt sicker with every step. As though a lead weight pressed down on his shoulders and the journey north only made it heavier.

Glenn knew he'd been hallucinating. For a full day he followed the winding path of the Jidra River, until looking at his maps and discovering the river was over fifty miles away. Other times he saw people that weren't there calling out to him to go back. Others were silent and ghostly. Dark skinned and clad in rags.

Somehow he knew the visions connected to that slavegirl he saw back at the convoy. _Isobel._ That was her name. How Glenn knew this, he did not know. Her name filled his dreams and he saw the world through her eyes. She was waiting for him to come back and free her.

In his less lucid moments, Glenn babbled to her. He tried to tell her that he was saving her by telling the Tower and his king about the Fist. She would not listen however. In his dreams he heard Jarn telling him to take the information to the Tower, and then repeating that they would kill everyone involved. Guilty and victim alike and burn it from history.

They would kill Isobel.

_Isobel_.

Glenn gave up on the eighth day out. His dementia and nausea were growing worse. Somehow Isobel would cure him. A single soldier carrying the most valuable piece of evidence in the world would somehow have to break a woman out of a guarded convoy.

He rode without stopping, walking the horses when they were too tired to run, back toward the alcazar. Slowly his head began to clear and strength returned to his body.

"Okay, Isobel," he said to thin air. "How do ya expect me to do this? They got men and magic; I ain't got nothin'." Jarn's horse trotting behind gave a neigh in response.

"Thank ya," he said dryly. "That helps a lot..." Glenn trailed off and looked back at the riderless horse.

He pulled his mount to a halt and climbed down. Jarn's mare happily pushed against Glenn's shoulder as he walked up. Glenn idly scratched the horse's chin as he flipped open the Knight's saddlebags. Jarn traveled with money, he knew. Whether it was personal wealth or a stipend provided by the First Knight it no longer helped Jarn, but just might save Isobel.

Tucked into a pocket of the bag, he found a purse. Glenn pulled the drawstring and saw at least nine hundred rupees inside.

Glenn drew a deep breath. He doubted the Knights would approve of this plan with their money, but Glenn was not Jarn or even a Knight. He had no other choice to free her.

He marched back to his mount and pulled the logbook from his bag. He slipped the band off and opened it to the convoy's upcoming stops. "Alright, Isobel," he muttered. "Yer in me head, but I'm goin' to do this my way."

Trailing down the page with his finger, Glenn located the nearest stop for the convoy. An inn called the Pedigree in the city of Ti'Crii. Looking at his maps, Glenn figured he could reach Ti'Crii within a week or two of travel. Assuming they didn't leave the alcazar when he did, they should still be there when he arrived.

He was a trained member of the royal guard, Glenn told himself. He could undertake one more covert mission. Lieutenant Tarmag was about to become a slave trafficker.

* * *

Harkinian screamed in frustration and threw a book across Seline's former guest quarters. Wheeling about, he kicked an end table and sent it tumbling. Glasses and a jeroboam bounced across the floor, spilling wine on the carpet. 

Leita watched his outburst from the other side of the large room. Her back was to the sealed double doors; moments before she sent the guards outside further down the hall. Times like these the last thing Hylians, even royal guard, needed to see was their new monarch out of control.

Harkinian cleared off the mantelpiece with a swipe of his arm. Tore oil paintings down from the wall and hurled them at the large shaded windows. Thankfully they hit the ledge instead of going through the glass.

He grabbed the poker from the fireplace set and raised it above his head. For a moment she thought he meant to beat the coffee table to death, but he just held still for a long minute and finally let the poker drop. He quickly followed suit and fell to his hands and knees.

Leita pushed from the doors and walked to him. She crouched down beside him and touched his shoulder. "Feel better, sir?"

Harkinian shook his head and she wondered if he was about to cry. "I want to know why."

"I don't know why your father died," she said. "I don't know why Seline left."

He looked up then and she saw pain in his blue eyes but no tears. "Maybe she left something? She wouldn't have just left without leaving word."

Leita shook her head. "Deverell and I both concluded that she left of her own accord. All of her rupees and some of her clothes were gone and a single horse was taken from the stables."

"No, I don't mean that." Harkinian pushed to his feet and began looking through the debris on the floor. "With the assassin and concern from the Tower, she would have left a message for me alone."

"Okay," she said doubtful. "And just happened to have ink on hand that only you could see?"

Harkinian ignored her and continued looking through the mess. "Just help me look."

Leita bit back a sigh and walked around the room. She glanced at the bookcase and tipped her head. "There's a small web around that book."

"What?"

"A spell, slight but there. Very slight."

"Which one?" He moved quickly to the case.

"That one." She pointed.

Harkinian came to a book set further back than the others beside it. "'Dissertations on modern Alterations,'" he read aloud. "I gave that to her when she turned eighteen." He pulled it free and opened the front cover. "She wrote over my inscription."

Leita leaned in to see but he pulled back before she could make out the neat handwriting covering the inside page.

"Prophecy?" he said after a time. "What is she talking about?"

"May I see?" Leita held out her hand. He paused and glanced back at the page. "I swear it won't go further than the two of us."

Harkinian handed her the book and turned away embarrassed.

Leita bit the tip of her tongue and began to read:

_My Dearest Harkinian,_

_If you are reading this then I am already long gone. This book and letter are hidden to all eyes save for yours alone. It was the one offering I could leave you. Please forgive my quick flight and disregard of this old gift. I hope you will return it to me at our next meeting. This gift along with everything you have given me over the years mean a great deal to me. As, I'm sure you know, do you._

_They selected me for that reason._

_My training at the Tower ended two years ago, Harkinian. I have spent that time in the wilds outside the Tower training underneath an old prophet. For centuries he had spoken about a time when the Knights of the Triforce would die save for a last one, when that happened the Gerudo King would rise and seize Hyrule and after that attempt to overrun the world. The last Knight would aid the dethroned ruler of Hyrule in stopping him._

_The prophet and his followers (of which I'm now one) have watched the royal bloodlines for a long time. They now believe the endtime is approaching. The Knights are almost gone and the Gerudo tribes are uniting. The Hylian that will save us all is your unborn daughter, Harkinian._

_The girl I'm now carrying._

_I am returning to my Outcast home for the duration of the pregnancy. With the threats against you and your wife we could not risk harm coming to the baby there. She will have the gift from my blood. We shall train her and nurture her magical talents until it is time for her to save the world. Goddesses willing that day will never come, but she will ready to serve if needed._

_I know you are angry and will probably never speak to me again. I am sorry but do not regret my actions. I am thankful that fate chose me for this undertaking. I do love you and know that in another life you could have loved me as well._

_In time perhaps you will forgive me for this._

_Yours eternally,_

_Leany_

Leita looked up. "Holy dren."

Harkinian could only nod. He looked as though he might throw up.

"This is," she started, "this is..."

"Madness," he finished for her. "She's obviously been put under some sort of spell by this cult. Going on about this fortune telling."

Leita opened her mouth, closed it, and then decided to be honest. "I've heard of the prophecy. All the Knights have. And she's right about the Gerudo. The Knights are too small in numbers now to do anything about them even if we did interfere with such things."

"So you knew she was going to--"

"No, no," Leita cut in. "I only knew about this prophecy as it related to my kind."

Harkinian sighed and turned away. "You have to find her."

"Excuse me?"

"When you saved her from that wizard," he explained, "you sensed her from across the palace. You can find her. Go after her and bring her back."

Leita shook her head. "I can't do that. She could be over a hundred miles away by now."

"I've heard stories of Knights tracking men over solid ice."

"They are just that: stories. I'm sorry, Harkinian."

He came forward and gripped her shoulders. "Please try. Leave right away. I'll give you whatever you require, and you might still catch her."

Leita was silent for a long while. She wasn't used to kings begging her for things. "I'm assigned to you," she said. "I can't leave your side. What if there are more assassins?"

"I'm about to be crowned king," he said. "I'm not alone for a second during these preparations. I'll be safe."

"I don't--"

"She's carrying my child, Leita. Please."

Leita took a deep breath and drew herself up tall with it. "I'll need a horse."

He looked ready to hug her.

"One thing, though," she said. "You've seen what I can do."

"I have."

Leita debated how to phrase her question. "If she doesn't want to come back with me, how far do you want me to go to _make_ her come back?"

* * *

The city of Ti'Crii was considered one of the marvels of Calatia, and Glenn could now understand why. Located on the Jidra River the large city featured a busy promenade that offered a unique waystop to merchants and travelers. Ti'Crii was built _on_ the river instead of just next to it. Floating barges lashed together with elaborate arching bridges made up the center of the city. That was the beating heart of its commerce and business district. A large aqueduct widened the Jidra around that district and pumped water into the city. 

Artificial waterfalls sprinkled mist over people sitting at an outdoor cafe. Couples in gondola cars slowly floated past the multitude of hawking merchants and tourists crowding the bridges. Seabirds swooped and darted between low set shops.

Glenn pushed his way through the throng of people, heading deeper into the lively city. Since arriving he'd taken a room at a small inn and tavern just outside the city proper, stored the horses there, washed the road off, and found the Pedigree Inn. There he bought another room. That one was only for show, however. A place that fit with the story he would tell the Fist. His point of operation was from the cheap room out of town.

Presently he made his way through the clothing stores along the waterfront promenade. Despite seventeen years of trying, he could not mask his eastern accent so instead of playing around it he would fully embrace it. As a child Glenn remembered seeing long range traders entering the badlands, running weapons and supplies to the various tribes and warring fractions. They played both sides and often gained thousands of rupees for it.

Just the type of people the Fist would want to deal with.

Working from memory of what the traders used to wear, Glenn clad himself in well cut black trousers, a white silk tunic, and over it all a richly cut dark coat. Not wanting people to see the Hylian palace symbol on his sword, he left it in the cheap room. His wits and belt knife his only weapons now.

Not that it mattered. With the number of armed men the Fist had, he doubted he could fight his way out of the Pedigree should the meeting not go well.

Glenn tugged uncomfortably at the coat as he walked back to the Pedigree. He felt stupid dressed like a rich trader. The cuffs of his tunic folded down over the coat sleeves. He tried to walk with a different gait. He puffed out his chest and tried to act as though he could buy and sell everyone he saw.

Without pausing he walked through the open double doors of the Pedigree. Large, lush, and lavish this hotel catered to only a certain type of clientele. Glenn did his best to appear unimpressed. A crystal chandelier longer than he was tall hung over the lobby. The building was three stories tall and decorated in deep reds.

"Master Tarmag," the clerk behind the check in desk said pleasantly. "I must say, you are looking much more...presentable than your last visit."

"Aye." Glenn reached into a pocket of his new coat. "Say, could ya pass a message on to one of yer other guests?"

"Absolutely." The clerk dipped his pen in a jar of ink.

"Just tell the officials of that rather large convoy outside of town that I'm interested in buyin' some of his wares."

The clerk blinked. "I'm sorry, sir, but--"

Glenn opened his hand and left a fifty rupee piece on the counter. "I'd be very thankful." With that he turned and walked away. Hopefully that should be enough for the Fist to notice him and deal with him as a merchant instead of just killing him outright.

Sweet Light he was in over his head.

* * *

It didn't take long. Before nightfall there was a knock on the door to his suite at the Pedigree. Standing in the doorway was a short balding man with two young men behind him. The man, obviously in charge, wore simple traveling clothes but the boys were both clad in short sleeve tunics and leather jerkins. They looked thick headed and strong. The type that washed out during Glenn's training. 

"Master Tarmag?" the one in charge asked.

"Aye."

"I'm Captain Brancher with the Iron Fist."

Glenn tried to calm his nerves. "Aye. Come in." He stepped aside, inviting them in.

"That won't be necessary. I understand you are under the impression we have something to sell. As a businessman I'm sure you understand how odd it is to approach a convoy captain with that sort of request."

Glenn had practiced this next part since before he set foot in Ti'Crii. "Aye, but I'm used to doin' business on me own terms. I learned ya was in town so I figured go right to ya and eliminate the middleman. I get what I want and you make a little profit that the bosses don't need to know about. Everyone's happy."

Brancher seemed to accept this. "And you knew we were here how?"

"I've done business with some high rankin' officials in Calatia, some that would prefer to remain nameless with this sort of business, and they pointed me to ya."

"I'm sorry, Master Tarmag," Brancher said, "but I'm going to need one of those names. Security, you understand."

"Sure." Glenn thought fast. "Let's just say...he owns a nice amount of land to the east of here. And is sympathetic to business people like ya and me."

Glenn's heart hammered in his chest. If he was wrong about the land baron's level of involvement, then he was a dead man and no one would ever know what the Fist was doing. "Listen, if ya don't want to make a little side money, I'll take me business elsewhere. I'm sure the baron would be happy to give me another name--"

"No," Brancher spoke up. "That's good enough for me. You'll have to come with us."

"Of course."

"And let these young men here make sure you aren't armed. Deals such as ours often go better when only one party is armed."

Glenn nodded his understanding and held his arms out and let the boys search him. One pulled his belt knife free and handed that to Brancher. "That was me dad's."

"You'll get it back."

"He's clean, sir," one of the guards said.

"You're a very trusting sort, Master Tarmag. Follow us."

Glenn closed the suite door behind him and fell in step behind Brancher as they walked down to the lobby. Outside they had a gondola car pulled to the dock with two more Fist guards in it. They all climbed aboard and the officers pushed off. Brancher sat across from Glenn as the young men rowed. He was silent watching the city pass slowly by so Glenn remained quiet as well.

Glenn kept recalling Jarn telling him that he'd recognized the look of a green palace soldier from a mile away. If Brancher shared that insight the Ti'Crii civil guard would have to fish Glenn's body from the river.

They continued past the promenade and through the residential areas of the city. Near the bank of the river they finally stopped and pulled to an old dock slowing crumbling into the Jidra. Brancher threw a line around one of the pylons and said, "From here we walk."

"Aye." Glenn disembarked with the rest of the group and followed as they led him through the seemingly deserted part of the city. They were on the outskirts, he noticed. Close enough to the edge that most of the buildings and structures were spaced far enough apart for grass and weeds to create small fields. It felt odd being on solid earth again after the wood and stone bridges and docks.

After about a quarter of a mile they were within sight of the convoy. It looked different in the light of day. The carts seemed bigger. Some, Glenn noted, bore scorch marks from the fire that devastated the land baron's home.

"Holts!" Brancher called as they walked. "Begin lining them up.

"So tell me, Master Tarmag, what exactly are you in the market for? A mule perhaps to help with your deliveries into the badlands?"

Glenn started to answer that his horse was plenty strong enough, until he realized Brancher meant a male slave. "Ah, nay. I was thinkin' of more of a single companion. Someone to help after all the unloadin'."

"Okay," Brancher said as causally as talking about the weather. "Boy or girl?"

"Huh? Oh, girl."

"Holts, bitches only!"

A man clad in animal skins with a long beard overseeing the unloading of the same men and women Glenn saw through that little window several weeks ago flashed a thumbs-up sign.

"Light on High," Glenn muttered, glancing at a wagon filled with swords and sharpening wheels.

Brancher laughed. "It is a beautiful operation, isn't it? I tell you, I don't know how the higher ups manage it, but I've never heard of the military stropping a Fist convoy. I just captain these boats and go where they tell me to, and the patrols always seem to be going in the opposite direction from us.

"These past few years our runs have just exploded in numbers. We can underbid the military so more and more merchants are taking us on. More money for them, more money for us. The military thinks we're doing them a favor by guarding useless cargo.

"In another ten or fifteen years, I wouldn't be surprised if they just ran the borders and we did all the shipping lines. Sea and land. Light, even now those boys back there--"he pointed to the guards following behind--"are making on this run what a Calatian soldier would make in a year."

"Wow," Glenn said, and meant it.

"I tell you, if you ever get tired of working with those savages out east you should come work for us. If you have any military experience, you could get in as an officer right off. S'what I did."

Glenn looked at him in surprise.

"Hylian army," Brancher said with a grimace. "Five years. Well, here we are."

Glenn gave Brancher another look and then took in the sight before him. Holts had lined up all the female slaves in a line. There were at least two dozen. All were dirty and smelled of confinement. Some wore only a long tan shirt that did little for their modesty.

Brancher signaled to Holts and the woody man flicked a small whip across the dirt in front of the women.

On cue, they all turned slowly around, their gazes never leaving the ground. Glenn saw long welts and bruises along their bare behinds. Another whip crack and they turned again.

"Well," Brancher said. "What do you think? Normally we clean them up before showings, but you wanted a quick side deal. This one here is pretty good for what you're looking for." He pointed to a girl that couldn't have been older than ten summers.

Glenn was suddenly very thankful he hadn't eaten that day. Forcing himself to look interested, he walked the line of slaves. Occasionally he stopped to examine one, but he already knew the one he wanted. 'I'm sorry I can't take you all,' he thought. 'I'm going to put a stop to this, I swear to the Light I am.'

And then he came to Isobel.

With just a look into her eyes the name exploded in his head again. _Isobel_. Sharp pain shot through his body. GETMEOUTGETMEOUTGETMEOUT The phrase burned through him until he was sure he was about to start screaming it.

"How much for this one?" he heard a voice that sounded like his say.

"Oh, you don't want her," Brancher said. "She's insane. Bite your dick clean off."

"I'll take me chances." Glenn couldn't look away from her eyes.

GETMEOUTGETMEOUTGETMEOUT

"Okay." The Fist captain laughed. "It's your castration. She is a trouble maker so I'd be happy to get rid of her." He tapped his fingers on his leather belt as he thought. "Say six-fifty."

Glenn had to remind himself he was a supposed trader. "Me balls are worth more than that. Five-fifty."

"Split the difference at six?"

Glenn smiled through his disgust and agreed.

"Holts, go ahead and chain her up for her new owner." Brancher turned to Glenn and held out his hand. "Master Tarmag, it's been a pleasure. I hope we see each other again."

Lieutenant Glenn Tarmag shook the proffered hand. "Aye. I'm sure we will."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The Iron Fist officers returned Glenn to the dock in front of the Pedigree and left with a friendly wave. Several hundred rupees poorer, Glenn watched them go. When they were out of sight he took Isobel's arm and started walking east.

"We have to get to safety," he told her. Brancher had given her an old traveler's cloak so at least no one on the street gave them a second look.

Isobel hadn't uttered a word since he found her, and presently watched him with wide, weary eyes. She dug in her bare heels, making it hard for him to walk with her.

Glenn sighed and turned on her. "Listen," he hissed. "I ain't yer owner! I'm Glenn Tarmag, soldier in the Hylian army. I'm trying to save ya. Now, follow me. Please."

Isobel looked at him, still unsure, for a long moment and finally stopped resisting. She kept him at arm's length, however.

Glenn kept to the streets and avoided the gondola cabs. He was a land creature and wanted ground beneath him. His heart still beat wildly in his chest. He couldn't believe he'd pulled off the rescue. He couldn't believe he'd just bought another living being.

He led her down street after street, ignoring hawkers and flower children. Almost a mile from the Pedigree was the Lost Fog tavern and inn. The cheap inn could fit entirely in the lobby of the Pedigree, but the managers didn't give their clients a second look.

And that's what Glenn needed right now.

A thick haze of tobacco smoke filled the common room and Glenn pulled Isobel through it without slowing. Here, in this dingy place, he felt a little more at home. Places like the Pedigree could never suit him.

"I have a room here," he explained to Isobel. "The Fist doesn't know about it so we'll be safe until they leave the city."

Isobel trailed behind as he climbed the narrow staircase, still watching him carefully. She touched the banister tentatively and then pulled back sharply.

Glenn stopped on the second floor and walked to his room. After fishing around in the pockets of his stupid coat he found the key and unlocked the door. "Go on," he said.

Isobel stared at the threshold and remained where she was.

Glenn sighed again and walked in, holding the door with his hand. "It's okay."

Isobel crossed the threshold and stepped quickly back from him.

Glenn shut the door and threw the bolt. "It's okay," he said again. "We're safe here. I don't want the Fist breathin' down my neck anymore than ya do."

Isobel turned slowly and took in the small room. She moved past a small sitting area and to the tiny bedroom. She dropped her cloak and turned to face him, an almost defiant look on her face.

Realization struck. "No!" Glenn said quickly. "We're just hidin'."

Her brow pulled down in a frown.

Glenn backed against the door. "Ya do understand right?"

Isobel opened her mouth and said, _ "Gert qunate? Hrught brou vienaea ci rane buon. Cigea yuane I geach vriate."_

Perfect.

* * *

Stretching between northern Hyrule, running past Hyrule Castle Town, and reaching almost to the border of Calatia was hundreds of miles of forest. Several roads ran clean paths through the dense woodland allowing travelers to reach even Faran with relative ease. Military forts and villages along the roads offered welcome waystops. 

More directly however were trails and paths not marked on maps that ran straight through the thick foliage. People that took those routes risked more than just losing sense of direction for brigades and monsters owned the wilds. Only one acquainted well with the land would risk traveling away from the safety of villages and civil patrols.

Knight Leita studied the land around her before dismounting. Leaves and sticks crunched underneath her boots. High above strong winds pushed against the tree canopy knocking free branches and sending them falling to the forest floor. Around her the noise of rustling leaves filled the sky. Here, only a stray beam of sunlight reached through the living roof. Already, not late into the afternoon, nighttime was coming on.

Leita walked forward several paces and dropped to her haunches. Before her a thin stream babbled along as it twisted and turned through the root filled land. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Pine, birch, and fresh earth filled her head. And, faintly, magic.

It was hard to distinguish among all the life around her, but it was there. Seline had proven quite adept at hard travel, Leita had learned, and might very well have covered her tracks so entirely no one would have been able to follow. But she was relying on magic to help survive.

She'd caught fish here at the stream, or, at least, enticed something living to come to her here. There was death mixing with the magic.

Even others within the Knights of the Triforce Order considered Leita powerful, but this was stretching her abilities. At times she felt like a bloodhound chasing a three-year-old scent. There was also a factor of time in her pursuit. While crossing borders wasn't a concern for her, dragging a pregnant woman through a heavy winter was.

Around her nature seemed ready for a harsh winter. Small animals burrowed in and trees were dropping leaves, shoring themselves for the next few months. Last town she stopped at, Leita had asked about the weather up north and already in the far most reaches snow had fallen. The coming season was the kind old people spoke of feeling in their bones.

Her thoughts of winter sent a shiver down Leita's spine. She pulled her wool cloak tighter around her frame. Forgoing the leather armor that represented her station, Leita wore black trousers, gray tunic, and black vest. With her cloak over it all she blended easily into scenery.

She pushed to her feet and walked back to her horse. It was a good mount that refused to complain even as she pushed hard for days without stopping. Catching up to Seline after she had such a long head start was not easy. Leita guessed the princess was still miles ahead of her. The Knight had hoped Seline would slow once they cleared the border of Calatia, thinking her home country offered her safety from the Hylian army.

Walking back to the good-natured mare, Leita felt a wave of tiredness sweep over her. Thoughts of the season changing made her long for the eastern palace and home. Her assignment to King Harkinian was never supposed to last this long. With fewer and fewer Knights in the world, long missions away from their eastern stronghold were discouraged.

The sickness slowly working its way through the Knights was insidious and effective. Leita could already feel an unusual strain within her when she used her powers. It drained her in ways the magic never had before. Some in the family thought overuse of the magics caused quicker onset, but she wasn't so sure.

Either way, Leita didn't have a choice in the matter. She swung herself back onto the saddle, her joints giving small protest as she did so. She'd given her word to Harkinian and intended to keep it.

"Bloody royals," Leita muttered. She squeezed her legs and let the horse pick its own path through the babbling creek.

* * *

Language, it turned out, was a complex thing. 

Glenn presently sat across from Isobel at their small table with maps of Hyrule and Calatia spread out before them. Isobel did speak a few words of Hylian, he discovered, but most of it was obscene and of little use when it came to sharing life stories.

By the first night, however, after becoming exasperated trying to get her to understand him, Glenn learned the same telepathic link she used to convince him to rescue her worked in reverse as well. If he thought about a word hard enough, and focused on her, she could receive it and try to pronounce it. Getting Isobel to understand the nuance and meaning behind the words took time.

He started small and simple. He thought about her safety and projected it. Once that was established, Isobel became eager to learn.

Glenn brought up food from the tavern and worked with her straight through the night building her knowledge of Hylian words. Isobel was very intelligent and soaked in each thing he taught her. After mastering a word, she would return the favor and teach him her language as well.

Their link was growing stronger, too. After several days of working with her, Glenn found he could feel random waves of emotion from her without trying or thinking about. When he slept and she stood watch over their room, he would dream about seeing himself prone in bed. Seeing through Isobel's eyes.

Glenn began to enjoy the time spent hiding from the Iron Fist and knew Isobel did as well. After a week holed up, and although he was sure the convoy had moved on, Glenn rented the room for another week.

Her time spent in captivity was the one thing they never discussed or thought to one another. Although she knew he meant her no harm, she still didn't move within arm's length of him. In that case, Glenn understood through their link by what she didn't think toward him.

He learned she was from the tiny southern country of Faran. She'd been involved with trying to stop area fisherman from making deals with the Fist to catch and sell other Faranians into slavery. The fisherman found her and her group and betrayed them to the Fist slave masters.

"My people...still need help," she told him one morning. Her voice heavily accented.

"Yer people?" He spoke in her language.

An image of the other people held by Captain Brancher came to Glenn.

"Are they yer family?"

Isobel shook her head. She thought for a long while, trying to come up with the right way to convey her meaning. Finally she sent an image of her in a long red ceremonial dress with prayer beads hanging from her shoulders and waist. Standing before her were the same people from the convoy, heads down in prayer as she lead them.

Glenn's eyes widened. "Are ya a nun?!"

She looked confused.

"A Sister of the Light," he explained. He called to mind images of holy ladies serving the poor.

"I am Padmasree Warrior," she said. "I lead and protect those of the masree. I bond with the strongest and together we protect the masree."

"Ya are a fightin' nun," Glenn said in awe. What she said about bonding with strong men didn't register in his mind.

"We must save the masree," she said. "My people need help."

Glenn felt helpless and knew she could sense it. "I'm just one person," he said. "They got weapons 'n numbers 'n magic."

Isobel frowned and then sent him an image of the army. "Call upon your forces."

"I don't know what winters are like down in Faran," he said, "but in another few months it'll be impossible for that many men to move anywhere." He called up memories of snow and ice storms.

Isobel looked at him with strength and defiance he would not have had dropped in the middle of a country he knew nothing of, not even the language. "We must try by ourselves then." She paused. "Or I must alone."

Glenn shook his head. "Nay. I'm in this with ya. I just need to figure out how to get the log book to safe hands first."

She frowned again.

"We was tryin' to stop the fisherman, too," he explained. "Jarn and me were going to stop this whole business from happenin'."

"Jarn? You mean the Assassin of Magic?"

That was as good as description of any, Glenn thought, so he nodded. "Without him I was goin' to the Tower of Magic. They have the power to stop it all."

"Then we go there first."

"Way too far north. The mountain passes would be hard to get up even now and impossible to come down until spring."

Trying to come up with a plan, Glenn spread out all the maps he owned. Isobel joined him at the table and began asking questions. "All this"--he gestured to the area around the Tower--"has country wizards, Outcasts, in it. Some are good and some are bad, I have no idea of tellin'."

"I might."

Glenn glanced up at her. Before he could probe further, however, she pointed to a small speck on the map. "What is this?"

"A cloister for the Order of the Light," he read. "Nuns, but not the fightin' kind."

"Can they be trusted?"

Glenn's father when he told stories of his time in the Hylian army also spoke highly of Sisters and their kindness to travelers. "Aye. But they ain't political."

"In the spring they could take the book to the Tower for you," she said. "The gods say this is where we need to go."

Glenn looked back to the map. There were several open roads to the cloister from Ti'Crii and, even though it was close to the Hylian border, if he and Isobel rode without stopping they might make it there in only a week or two. Plus talking to a cleric before going off on a suicide mission couldn't hurt the soul.

"Aye," he said. "Who am I to argue with the gods? We'll pack up and leave right o' way."

* * *

Leita smelled the dung before she saw it. The sharp scent was instantly familiar and a threat to all travelers in the woods. Moblins. 

The Knight stopped and held her hand up to signal the mare behind her to halt. She cleared her sword in the scabbard and slowly turned, scanning the land around her. The pile of dung was only a few hours old and by the look of the broken branches and trampled earth the pack was moving.

The little pig creatures traveled in packs of several dozen or more, she knew. Smart enough to set traps or coordinate attacks to snare prey, moblins kept to their territory until food got close. They were strong and big enough eat a Hylian. Or a Calatian.

"Light," Leita swore. She wheeled around and climbed atop her horse. Seline had proven herself smart, but even a good traveler could find him or herself stalked unaware by a pack of animals.

Leita quickly snapped a circle around her on position, doubling back around in a wide arc, to make sure a second pack wasn't following her. Finding no sign of pursuit, she started after Seline again. Not bothering this time to check for her trail; the moblins were leaving a big enough one in their wake.

Night began to come on with alarming speed. Leita didn't slow, however. She'd seen merchants that tried to save time by keeping from the main roads, and money by traveling unprotected, only to find an ambush waiting for them. To moblins everything was food and if it moved while going down so much the better.

Leita urged her horse to run faster. She was close; her enhanced senses told her that much at least. Weariness threatened her again. Leita could not remember her last full night's sleep. Regardless, she called the magic of her birthright...

* * *

Seline felt the disturbance moments before the creature was on top of her. Spinning, she raised her hand and launched a bolt of lightning without thought. The little blue animal running at her took the blast head on and blew apart. Gore hit the forest floor with a sickening thump. 

Her horse standing beside her neighed in fright and tried to run. Seline grabbed the reins and held on tightly. She tried to scan the woods around her for other threats, but the horse kept bucking and pulling at her. The smell of burnt flesh filled the area.

Two sharp whistles sounded behind her and two arrows dropped into the dirt.

Seline turned in time to see two more fly from the shadows aimed at her chest. A shield of magic flared in front of her before she could blink. The arrows smashed themselves against it and fell broken to the ground. She collapsed the barrier and backpedaled, still trying to find the attackers.

A howl came from her left and two more creatures charged her. Lightning tore through one but missed the other. Seline ducked and felt something sharp pass by her head.

The horse gave another neigh, this time one of pain. Seline felt hot blood splatter against her body and saw the mare's front legs go out from underneath her. More little blue creatures ran from the closing darkness and swarmed the injured horse. They piled on top of the mare, ripping at her throat like wild dogs. Several more neighs sounded and she was silent.

Seline backed away stunned. Waves of death were beginning to hit her now. An already sick stomach threatened to protest powerfully.

She heard snarling behind her. Seline wheeled around and saw for the first time her attackers clearly. Drool ran down sharp tusks that protruded around a piglike snout. They were clad in dingy leather jerkins and carried spears and full quivers on their backs. They were small, rising only to her shoulder, but all looked hungry and dangerous.

Seline began weaving magic. There were many of them, though. As they drew closer, she could sense movement surrounding her. How long had they pinned her without her already overtaxed body and gifts realizing? She put one hand over her stomach and another out in front of her. Fire pooled around her clenched fist. She would kill every last one of them if she had to.

The moblins around her grunted to each other and came at her. Two ran at her, claws extended. Fire lifted one from its feet and air compressed into a vice smashed the other's skull. Arrows flew toward her and Seline struggled to burn them to cinder before they reached her. Moblins came at her from every angle. Claws and knifes aiming for her throat.

She blasted another with lightning only to have a second try to sneak up on her from behind. She whipped it away with a wave her hand and a wall of air. Four more charged before she could finish the first off.

Seline felt like she was sanding on an island slowly sinking into the sea. Night had come fully and no moonlight penetrated the thick canopy above. The only sight she had was provided by her gift and the occasional glimpse offered between bouts of fireballs or lightning.

The moblins howled and snarled as they moved steadily closer. Some grabbed the bodies of their fallen kin and began eating. She was the prize, however, and they whole pack seemed to know it.

Fatigue was becoming an issue. Wizards and witches didn't normally fight, even among the Outcasts, and certainly not when sustaining another life inside. In the peek of health, Seline only belonged to the Fourth Order and did not have much raw power for fighting. Only desperation for herself and unborn baby kept her on the offensive.

And then, without warning, death itself came screeching from the sky. Moblins cried out in pain and terror. Limbs hit the ground and blood sprayed. Seline doubled over and went to her knees. She could only look on as death danced around her.

* * *

The magic of the Knights of the Triforce cried out for more carnage. Leita moved with enhanced speed through the forest with the grace and practiced profession of a street dancer. Instead of a ribbon of color in her hands, however, she carried a twin sided razor sharp sword. 

The magic, unfettered by the control so rigidly taught by her teachers, poured through Leita and exploded out of the end of her blade. She felt as though her entire body followed a carefully guided line past each moblin. The sword moved in an arc around her slight body and the diversion to take the arm or head of a fleeing moblin belied the randomness of her attack.

It all blurred together in her mind as one long scene of blood and death. A moblin ran at her with a knife in its hand. Without missing a step as she danced the forms of blademastery, Leita grabbed its wrist, twisted her torso to the side, and drove the knife into the gut of another attacker. She ripped upward with enough strength to almost cut the beast entirely in half. Another managed to aim an arrow at her moving body. Leita grabbed the arrow from mid-flight and threw it back on the archer with enough force to pierce its leather jerkin.

Urged on by the violence, the magic surged in power. It was alive with purpose inside her, and was more than happy to carry out the command of its mistress.

She clearly sensed the presence of magic in the center of her attack zone, Princess Seline. Leita deftly jumped, ran, and twisted around that center. Not a single moblin made it in close to attack the witch woman again. None of them cared about their prey anymore since the angel of a vengeful god lashed down upon them.

Within two minutes of the first attack by the Knight, it was over. Leita stood gasping for breath among dozens of blue corpses. Blood ran down her sword and dripped into muddy pools on the ground. Besides herself and Seline, not another creature lived in the area.

Pulling herself together, Leita put her sword away and turned toward the witch. "Are you okay?"

Seline looked at her, discomfort twisting her expression away from any sort of surprise. "They didn't hurt me," she said.

Leita saw for the first time that Seline had changed in the time since leaving Hyrule Castle. She wore trousers and a long white tunic that barely concealed a quickly growing belly underneath. Her face had also filled out in proportion to the rest of her. The Knight did a quick calculation in her head and guessed that about right.

"It looks like you owe me two now"--Leita noticed the pained look--"What's wrong?"

"I'm bleeding," Seline said, almost inaudibly. "I need help."

Leita ran to her. "But I thought you said the moblins didn't hurt you?"

"They didn't." The witch drew a shaky breath. "It's the baby."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The cloister was a brick home set away from the rolling hills of Calatia. Expanses of woodland circled the order and provided shelter from easterly wind. Three stories in height with a bell tower looking down on it all, the cloister felt old and safe. Sisters and Brothers of the holy Light moved about the grounds, wrapped in long black robes.

Glenn rode beside Isobel as they entered the curtilage and guessed about two dozen men and women lived there. Isobel drew and deep breath and smiled. "This is holy land," she said in Faranian.

"Aye," he said.

Overhead thick white clouds that threatened rain or snow or both filled the sky. Frost had covered the ground when they woke up that morning. Winter was coming with certainty and force he could feel on the back of his neck.

"This was correct," Isobel said. "We were correct in coming here."

Glenn just nodded. He knew what she felt. There was peace in the air and a quietness that promised strength and forgiveness. It was, he thought, the exact opposite of what he felt walking the streets and docks of Ti'Crii.

Ahead two Sisters carrying wide wicker baskets spotted Glenn and Isobel and turned toward them. They set the baskets down and walked to the riders.

"Hullo," Glenn called. "We are travelers seeking shelter and aid."

One of the Sisters, a plump friendly-faced woman, smiled. "Greetings. All that we have, we offer."

Glenn pulled his gelding to a halt and dismounted. "I'm an officer in the Hylian army," he identified himself, gesturing to the palace seal on his sword. "This woman is a refugee from Faran and me charge. I require boardin' for us and me horses and a meetin' with yer vicar.

"I have money," he finished.

The Sister shook her head. "You may make a donation later, but first we'll see to your comfort. Sister France, please take their horses to the stable. Come this way."

Isobel dropped to the ground and fell in step behind Glenn as the Sister escorted them inside the cloister. They climbed wide granite steps and passed heavily reinforced storm doors. Inside the main building it was dark and homey. The air smelled of incense and candle wax. The Sister's shoes clipped against the tile floor as they walked. Solid looking walls were built from cherry wood and accented the brick and granite bases.

Tapestries and religious oil paintings depicting the world's salvation from evil by embracing forgiveness and upholding justice covered each wall. He sensed Isobel sink deeper into the calm presence around them.

"I'm Sister Abigail," the plump woman said. "We do not see many army officers pass through here." She chuckled. "The order will be talking about this for months!"

"I hope not, Sister," Glenn said. "A Knight 'o Triforce and me were investigatin improper tradin' and I stumbled on Isobel here. We'd rather no one know we was here."

Abigail smiled back. "Secrets do not leave our walls, Master Tarmag. You are safe here. The Knights, however, we are very familiar with. They often times stop on their journeys in and out of Calatia to check on us and donate supplies."

She led them down a flight of stairs and a narrow hallway to several small quarters. They were spartan with only a cot, desk, small stove, and wash basin in each. High windows let in streams of daylight defused by frost on the outside of the thick glass. "You may rest here, Master Tarmag," Abigail said. "Your friend is welcome to the room across the hall. Is that close enough for you to ensure her safety?"

"Aye." He was sure, though, that even from across the cloister he would still feel her through their odd bond. "'Bout meeting with yer vicar...?"

"I will tell Mother Sura you are here," she said. "She will see you as soon as possible. Until then I will send fresh clothing and food for you both."

"Thank ya. I'll pay for this help."

"We are friends of all," she said, "but especially the Knights. You walk with them so we shall help in any way possible."

Glenn glanced at Isobel as Abigail showed her out of the small room. She'd been right; this was the place to find help. How, he wondered, did a lass with no knowledge of Hyrule or Calatia know exactly where Jarn's title would earn them aid?

* * *

After almost a full day of waiting, the Mother of the order came to visit Glenn. She was a tall woman, imposing in her long black robes, with a multitude of lines and wrinkles on her face and hands. Thin lips, pale from age, compressed into a stern line. Cutting blue eyes seemed to take in everything and strip away any pretense of untruthfulness. A necklace hung down over her chest filled with many religious charms and symbols. 

Glenn rolled off his cot when she walked into the small room and he fought the urge to salute. Instead, he bowed. "Mother, thank ya for seein' me."

"You're welcome, Lieutenant Tarmag. She smoothed her robed and sat at the desk, turning the chair first to face him. "If you don't mind me asking, Sister Abigail mentioned you traveled with a Knight of the Triforce. What was his name?"

"Jarn. His name was Jarn."

She nodded and seemed deep in thought. "Was?"

"He died fightin' the slavers we was trackin'."

"I shall pray for his soul," Sura said instantly. "He is one of our order's many friends within the Knights. You were tacking slavers? Here in Hyrule? How much of this mission of yours can you tell me?"

Glenn took a deep breath. "Have ya heard of the trade group the Iron Fist?"

"Yes. Some of their scouts have stayed with us on their way back to Calatia."

"Don't ever do business with 'em again," he said. "They are filthy men that buy and sell people. From Faran and other countries too small to fight back. They buy politicians to look the other way while they bring in illegal cargo and slaves."

Sura blinked at him. "And you have proof of this?"

"Aye." Glenn scrabbled to his travel pack and withdrew the convoy's logbook. "Jarn died while stealin' this from a Fist slave train. There are stops, names, and receipts for shipments comin' through Calatian ports. Boat names and captains that bring the people up from Faran."

Sura cautiously took the book from him and began delicately paging through it. She spent ten minutes reading the written proof of illegal slave activities. When Glenn opened his mouth to speak, she held up a hand to silence him.

"Do you have any other proof?" she asked at last.

"Nay," he said. "That should be enough for an investigation though."

"It is that indeed." Sura looked up and handed the book back. "At least my friend died procuring something that will save lives."

Glenn nodded. "I do need somethin' more from ya, though."

"Oh?"

"I need ya to hang onto this book and see that it is delivered to the Ruling Council of the Tower in the spring when the roads open again."

"Why can't you show it to the Council?"

"Isobel and me have to go back to the convoy. There are still people bein' held there. We have to help."

The Mother almost smiled. "By yourselves? Against a protected train?"

Glenn shrugged. "Have to try."

"Your proof will be delivered," she said. "Jarn was a good man that chose his companions well. You serve his memory well. Do you require anything else?"

"Nay. I want to get back to the road as soon as possible. If we hurry we can beat the snowfall."

"Your friend," she said, "is welcome to stay here. We will see to her needs and any medical care she might require."

"Thanks, but Isobel won't stay behind. Them is her people and she wants to see it to the end."

A knock interrupted Sura's next sentence. "Yes?"

The door opened and a young Sister looked in. "Apologies, Mother, but there is another rider approaching. Sister Abigail wanted you to know right away."

Glenn was on his feet faster than Sura. "How many? Just one?"

The young girl looked at him in surprise. "Y-yes, we think just one rider."

"Come on."

Glenn walked shoulder to shoulder with Sura back through the twisting halls of the cloister. He draped his sword's baldric over his shoulder and adjusted the blade at his hip. "What sort of defenses ya got here, Mother?"

"This is holy ground," she said sharply. "There will be no violence here."

"I said defensive." He met the older woman's hard stare with one of his own. "Ain't no one hurtin' Isobel again while I'm alive. The Knights did more than just drop off supplies here, I know it. Where are yer defenses?"

They took the stairs two at a time. "We have a series of tunnels underneath the cloister," she said. "They seal from the inside and have enough supplies to last for months. There are also exits a couple miles out at the edge of the forest."

"I want Isobel down there now."

Sura looked at the young Sister and nodded. "Do it."

"Thank ya."

They emerged in milky overcast daylight. The temperature had fallen since his arrival the day before and the chill prickled Glenn's exposed face and arms. The small courtyard had emptied and haphazardly dropped skeps said they had done so quickly. Glenn and the Mother were the only two standing on the granite steps waiting for the visitor.

"How often do ya get travelers here?"

"You and Isobel are the first in two months."

"Light."

Sura let the curse slide without chiding him.

Rounding the curve in the road leading up to the cloister was the lone horse. It lumbered slowly into view, picking its path carefully. Glenn fingered the hilt of his sword as he watched it draw closer. At first he thought one massive man rode on the back of the horse, but then as details became more clear he saw two small people jointly shared the saddle. The passenger rode in front of the one holding the reins, listlessly leaning back against the driver. Dark cloaks and hoods pulled against the weather hid both.

"Sisters," a woman called. "I need help."

That was enough for Sura. She ran down the steps and signaled for other Sisters watching from the inside. Glenn sidestepped and watched as the women rushed to the newcomers. Carefully the rider lowered the unconscious girl down to the waiting nuns. Her hood fell back and he saw she was beautiful with long blonde hair. She looked young, possibly even younger than Glenn.

Abigail and other Sisters of the Light carried the blonde girl to the cloister. Her skin seemed unnaturally pale even in the white light.

The rider, also a woman Glenn saw, swung down from the saddle and dropped in front of Sura. She pushed her hood back and bravely met the Mother's questioning stare. The rider was older but still in her prime, sandy colored hair lacked the luster of the first girl, and worry tugged at her thin face.

"She's carrying a baby and has lost a lot of blood, Mother Sura. I didn't know who else to come to for help. My options were limited given how far out we were."

"I have Healer Guild trained Sisters and Brothers," Sura assured her. She spoke comfortably that hinted she knew the rider. "We shall do our best."

Glenn stepped forward. "If ya don't mind me askin'," he said. "Who are ya?"

The woman shifted toward him and he saw the hilt of a sword with a black winged crossguard peek out from the folds of her cloak. "I'm Leita. Who the Light are you?"

* * *

Later in one of the dinning rooms of the cloister, Glenn sat across from Knight Leita nursing a glass of wine. Hardly the sturdy ale he'd like to have, but it was soothing enough. The logbook sat on the table between them. 

Leita sniffed her own glass and set it down without drinking. "Thing about raiding a nun's stash is you never find the good stuff," she said wryly.

"Aye."

"You're from the east." It was not a question. "Litbac?"

"Close. Brounba. Me family has a farm out there."

Leita nodded. "I've been out in that area. It's nice. Good people." She thought for a moment and then tapped the book with her fingertips. "So how long have you been out here researching this?"

"A few months since Jarn found me and 'round two months before that."

Now Leita did drink and Glenn followed suit.

"That girl you brought in," he began. "Who is she?"

Leita took a deep breath. "Princess Seline of Calatia, formerly of the Tower, formerly of a group of Outcasts set up by a prophet. Currently pregnant with King Harkinian's daughter."

"Light on High!"

"Yep."

"What has been goin' on in the castle?"

"About ten different people all with different agendas," she said. "I never liked politicians, I never liked wizards, and I like them all even less now."

Glenn leaned forward. "Wait, ya said King Harkinian. What happened to King Gareth?"

"Dead," Leita said simply. "I thought the old piece of grizzle just died naturally, but after reading this log I'm not so sure."

Glenn blinked, stunned. "What do ya mean?"

"Think about it, Glenn." Leita tapped the cover again. "You've read this. How they talk about troop movements of the Hylian army. Look at your maps and compare it to their routes. Entire areas are purposely undefended. Inspectors are passing over ships without reason.

"No local captain can do that. This goes very high into the government -- probably Calatia's, too."

Glenn swallowed hard. "And ya think the people in charge killed the king?"

"Or he was in on it and his cohorts decided he was too old or weak to be useful."

"King Gareth would never be part of that!"

Leita narrowed her eyes. "Harkinian had a magical death threat against him. Not his wife or his father, just him. We have one group of Outcasts working to produce a child with Harkinian and a witch; another working with the Iron Fist to kill him.

"His power and influence will only increase so it doesn't make any sense for them to kill him if he's their contact. However, people see him as weak and unsure. Not the type of person you'd want leading something this big."

"And if the throne weren't in charge, the Fist would want someone like him in play," Glenn finished.

"Exactly."

"A consortium of people maybe? A few sea captains, some field commanders, all reporting to the palace. A shadow government stretchin' from Calatia to Hyrule to Faran."

"With an Outcast group working as liaisons between the people in charge," Leita offered. "That would explain Jarn's run in with the two spell casters when you met him. They must be enforcers. Wiping memories, enchanting people into working with them, making people disappear when the Fist needs to do so quietly."

"Out in the badlands there are mages that practice warfare," he said. "A couple of those on a slavin' boat would net people easily."

"As much as I hate to admit it, the Tower is going to have to be involved," she said. "There just aren't enough Knights left to wage a war against an organized Outcast group with Fist foot soldiers as backup."

"Jarn said they'd do this quietly. Kill those involved while tryin' to keep word from comin' out."

She nodded. "That sounds like the Tower. Spell casters are supposed to be above this sort of crude behavior. Image is more important to them than anything else."

"And yer okay with that?"

"If you are looking for me to spill tears over maggots that treat people like property, it's not going to happen. These people deserve to be ground into the earth and I'm only sorry it won't be my boot that does it."

Glenn grunted his approval of that. "Then it's right for me and Isobel to go after the convoy. We need to save them people before spring."

Leita gave him a look. "I'd help you if I could, Glenn, but I have to get Seline back to the castle and the Godeu novel I'm suddenly living in as soon as possible."

He laughed at the joke. "Is it that bad in the palace?"

"People sleeping with each other, people backstabbing each other, people backstabbing while sleeping with each other, oh, and lightning throwing assassins." Leita downed the last of her wine. "Yeah, it's that bad. I hope you never pull palace duty, lieutenant."

"Actually, I always wanted to be captain of the guard."

"Well, depending on how high this corruption is, there might soon be some openings."

They sat in silence for a long moment. Leita glanced over her shoulder at the closed doors, undoubtedly hoping to see the Mother enter with an update on Seline. Glenn flicked dirt from underneath a fingernail.

"So what will ya do when ya get back?"

"Turn Seline back over to Harkinian," she said. "He can worry about whatever is going through her head. Then, get to the bottom of this Iron Fist thing. Ask questions, get others to ask questions, and figure out where the money is flowing from. Put a stop to it all here in Hyrule. Do what I can, at least. Next year a lot of people in Calatia are going to find the Tower coming after them."

"I hope I'll be there when that happens."

Leita wisely kept silent.

"Isobel wants to go after the convoy," he said. "So do I. They are her people, her followers...Do ya believe in coincidence?"

Leita raised her pale eyebrows. "Yes. Why?"

"Isobel wanted to come here, too. Almost at the same time ya and Seline did."

"And you think she somehow knew?"

He shrugged. "She does things, knows things."

"Like a prophet, you mean?'

"Somethin' like that."

"The gift of prophecy is very, very rare, Glenn. Of a hundred people born to two non magics, one will have the gift of magic. Of a thousand gifted, one will have the ability of prophecy. There are so few, there is no guild for them at the Tower anymore."

"So ya don't think so?"

She shook her head. "I don't sense any of the gifted in the cloister besides Seline, but it's not always a sure thing. There are ways of hiding from our senses."

"She's a religious leader of some sort," he offered.

"It's possible she has some sort of gift," Leita said. "There are more magics in this world than the Tower admits. Some are more pronounced than others. I don't know much about Faran or its religions. Sorry."

"S'okay. I was just wonderin' if she knew somethin' about how the fight would go. There are a lot o' them and if they have a spell caster..."

Leita opened her mouth to speak, but the doors suddenly parting and Mother Sura walking in cut her off. Both Glenn and Leita rose to their feet.

"Sit both of you," she ordered. "Princess Seline is not well, Knight. She should not have traveled in this condition."

"I didn't tell her to go," Leita muttered. "I'm just her ride back."

Sura shook her head. "She is not leaving bed until the baby is born."

"That's months!"

"She is already halfway to term. You can wait another four or five months."

Leita swore heavily under her breath. "This is just perfect."

"The healers believe the baby has the gift," continued Sura. "It is drawing much from the mother as it grows. Was the father gifted as well?"

"No," Leita said. "Just Seline. You had better strap her down up there; she tends to bolt."

Sura sat at the table across from them. "Princess Seline is near catatonic providing for her baby and body. The power draw is remarkable. She will not leave this place until the birth." The Mother drew a deep breath and almost smiled. "It has been an interesting day."

"'Goddesses above and below save me from excitement,'" Glenn quoted.

"'For dullness and mundane pursuits are all I desire,'" Leita finished. They looked at each other and grinned.

The three individuals sitting in a small cloister with the logbook between them and a pregnant witch upstairs shared a long quiet moment together.

"When are you two leaving?" Leita asked Glenn.

"Mornin'," he said. "Beat the worst of the weather if we can."

Leita nodded. "Where are you going?"

"Port town called Deni. It's where the convoy is stoppin' for the winter. We figure they are pickin' up more of Isobel's people from Faran. We'll attack them, free as many as we can, and cause as much destruction as possible."

"Our doors are open," Sura said, "should any of those people require shelter."

Glenn gave his thanks.

"On the off chance there's a wizard with them," Leita said, "how would you like an Assassin of Magic with you?"

"I don't understand."

Leita licked her lips. "That's what the Tower calls Knights. I'll come with you and Isobel to Deni."

Glenn shook his head. "We ain't comin' back from this mission. Ya are too important."

"My title buys quite a bit," she told him. "I know some ship captains and Heralds of the Knights in those areas and if they are in town we might get some help. Even a couple of men would make a difference. If there's a spell caster I'll take him on and let you and the girl play independence bringers."

"If ya die--"

"If we die," Leita said for him, "Mother Sura will deliver your book to the Tower and a letter from me to the First Knight."

Sura gave a nod of confirmation.

"I've got four months to kill and not a lot of time left in general. All I can do now is make a difference wherever possible.

"Besides, I outrank you. I'm coming with no matter what you say."

"Thank ya."

Leita raised her empty wineglass. "Let's go be heroes."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

After Seline and Leita left the palace, Harkinian started the process of formally assuming full power and authority of Hyrule's Seat. Technically, he was already in charge and making day to day decisions; the meetings and preparations for the coronation were all just for show and ceremony. It provided, as Deverell said, a feeling of leadership and familiarity to the people of the city and country.

There was also the matter of King Gareth's funeral. As per law his body lay in repose in the main chamber of the Temple of Time for public mourning. From the south end of the castle, Harkinian watched as a line of people, hundreds long, stood and slowly shuffled inside the Temple to view their beloved king.

Gareth had ascended to the throne three days after his twelfth birthday. A fever had claimed his mother, the ruling queen. There were generations of Hylians that knew no other ruler than Gareth. He led the country through wars and disputes with neighbors.

Harkinian stood by the high window watching the people and questioned how they would one day remember him. Barely days into his office, and the full weight of it lay heavy on his shoulders.

Chancellor Deverell commanded his days. Harkinian spent much of his time meeting with high ranking officials and reviewing reports. Each day brought another visit to Embassy Row to acquaint himself with ambassadors.

Security tightened noticeably with his new position and the absence of Leita. His only time by alone was at night in his chambers when Deverell left after going over the next day's agenda. Loneliness, however, existed even when he was entertaining a throne room full of people.

The events with Seline sickened him. The confusion of that on top of his father's death was just too much. He moved through the days and weeks barely awake. The full scope of the power he now controlled hadn't yet to register.

Deverell threw a feast for nobles and other high-ranking officials the night before the coronation. Every Hylian royal house attended. Harkinian ordered a more muted celebration than what tradition called for.and combined the welcoming of a new king with the grief of the lost of an old one. He opened the doors of the great hall to commoners and people turned out in numbers. .

Meeting with the other royal families, Harkinian wished he was better at reading the unspoken messages communicated between nobles. How they really felt about him remained a mystery. Deverell assured there were no plots against him. All talk of assassination ended when Gareth died.

Harkinian began to wonder if his father had always been the real target.

Despite his birthright, politics were not his strong suit. Through first and secondary school, literary and historical pursuits were his gifts. Espionage and multi dimensional thinking required effort.

Harkinian set himself a mission to learn.

* * *

Four weeks after the castle was rid of the witch-bitch, Kilsa placed the signal candle in the tower window and ventured down to the wash house to wait for her new liaison to the Iron Fist. A new leader commanded the Fist now, and the sooner all the low level officers realized it the better. 

Now was a time to quiet and wait for interest to die, she knew. Kilsa played long games and was willing to wait until the right time to see Gareth's dream reach reality. In several years she and Harkinian would rule an entirely new world. Calatia in the past was a good partner to Hyrule, but it had grown weak and useless. Kilsa would shed no tears when its infrastructure finally crumbled and Hyrule seized control of several hundred miles of new land.

Again her soft slippers squished through slime in the passageway to the wash house. She pushed the heavy door open and entered the abandoned building. After hanging her lantern on a wall hook, the princess settled herself for a wait.

The last two times she tried making contact with the Fist, the new representatives hadn't shown. They either weren't in town yet, or were afraid to make themselves known because of the Knight of the Triforce.

An added bonus of the witch-bitch leaving was Leita going with her. The Knights were too nosey for her liking. They claimed neutrality but were always looking to interfere with things that didn't concern them. Plus they believed themselves much more powerful than they really were. Magic, for all its flash, could not compete with a sharp mind and ruthless intentions. That was true power.

After almost an hour of waiting, the door to the wash house opened and an older man with graying hair entered. He stood eye level with Kilsa and had the dignified look of nobility to him. Kind green eyes lacked the intense power of Gabriel's. He was clad in simple brown robes that made him look he'd just arrived from the Tower.

"Princess Kilsa?" His voice was low and measured.

"Yes."

"I'm Ramon, Alterer of the Third Order."

"It's about time," she snapped. "You're from the Tower, then? Or do the Outcasts have orders? I'm still not clear how this works."

"I took my oaths," he said, "but am loyal to the Iron Fist and the new world order."

"That's all I need to know about you then," she said. "I have orders for you to pass along. With Gareth out of the plan, I'm effectively in charge. Anything you would have passed along to him will now go to me, am I clear?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

Kilsa liked the sound of the appellation from his mouth. "All operations are to be held at their current status. No advancement. Gareth's call for major assassinations and power grabs is on hold. Now is the time to shore our positions, not build new ones."

Ramon smiled. "Many of the field commanders will welcome that news, ma'am. Our men and women in the Tower are not yet in control to effectively make changes to the day to day functions. Is there anything else?"

"Yes." Kilsa hoped Harkinian would one day have the strength to help her with the Fist, but if that ever happened he could never find out about this next order. "Do we know the location of Princess Seline?"

Ramon thought for a moment. "We thought she was still here."

"No, she left quite abruptly a some time ago. I want our convoys in the field and spell casters to watch for her. She might go to another witch or wizard for help before returning home. If we haven't found her before she returns to Calatia Castle, we are going to have to arrange an assassination."

Ramon raised an eyebrow. "That might call unwanted attention."

"We must make sure it doesn't," she said. "I don't know what Seline knows about the Fist, but I cannot take the risk of her learning about us. Plus, when she ascends to the throne, she will prove to be a much more dangerous foe than her father, Hinart.

"It must be done sooner or later, and I choose sooner. Clear?"

"Yes, Your Highness." Ramon bowed.

Kilsa smiled at her new servant.

* * *

Three months after Gareth's public funeral, Harkinian began to see further than his grief. Slowly he was settling into the routine of his new position. He moved into his father's old office and started holding court several times a week. 

Deverell continued to help him through the daily responsibilities. Together they went over intelligence reports from the captain of the guard and saw visitors from the Council of Houses.

"You are doing fine, sir," Deverell said one evening in the king's chambers. "There is much to take in, but you have handled yourself quite well."

Harkinian lounged in an oversized chair and pulled the collar of his coat open. "Thank you, Deverell. I don't share your high opinion, but thank you."

Deverell allowed him a rare smile. "Get some rest, Your Majesty, and I'll see you in the morning."

"Wait." Harkinian flexed a stiff hand. "You investigated my father's death?"

"I have."

"Did you discover anything abnormal?"

Deverell stepped deeper into the room. "Nothing whatsoever. No outward signs of poison on the body."

"There are poisons that leave no sign," the king said. "Even I know that."

Deverell gave him a look that said he had just caught Harkinian's line of reasoning. "Yes, but you might not know those require close contact and a short time frame. No one save for his nurses were around him in the time needed, and they were thoroughly checked before hand."

Harkinian nodded. "I do know that. And I know Kilsa saw him hours before he died."

"Sir..."

"I want you and the civil guard to 'thoroughly check' Kilsa and her family," Harkinian said. "Go back years if you have to. I want to know if anyone has died under similar circumstance around that family. Royal families have their own poison recipes, and they normally go back generations."

"Who told you that?"

A knocked sounded against the door and it opened. As though on cue, Kilsa entered. "You wanted to see me, husband?"

Harkinian pushed to his feet. "My father did, Deverell. He tried to teach me many things. Good evening, Kilsa. Please come in."

"If you are in a meeting I can come back later."

"No, Deverell was just leaving. Goodnight, Chancellor."

"Thank you, sir." Deverell bowed, wished Kilsa a good night, and shut the chamber doors behind him.

"I must say," Kilsa said, "a late night call from you is strange to say the least. Is everything okay?"

Harkinian shook his head and walked to the sofa. "Sit with me please."

Kilsa gave him an odd look and sat next to him, crossing her legs. "What's wrong?"

"These past few months, you have worked with your staff, I'm always surrounded by mine, and we barely see each other an hour a day."

"I'm aware of my place and responsibilities," Kilsa said. "People like me, when their jobs are done well, are not seen."

"Maybe it's time to change your role."

Kilsa raised her trimmed brows in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean--"Harkinian reached out and took her hands in his--"that lately I haven't know who to trust or what to feel. I thought Seline was my friend, but then she tried to involve the Tower in Hylian matters, she left and my father died...I have been in a freefall and all I want is to pull myself together and surround myself with people I know I can trust.

"I know Deverell said the Houses aren't threatening me, but I would feel better if I were able to judge that for myself."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Stay close to me," he said. "Teach me all that you know managing the Houses. I want to strike back at those that mean me harm."

Kilsa tipped her head to the side. "You are much too nice for that, Harkinian."

"I'm trying to be less so." He leaned forward and kissed her. Gentle at first and then let it grow in intensity. He pulled back slightly. "Will you help me, then?"

She grabbed his face and kissed him back. He had his answer.

* * *

Lieutenant Joesif Werr leaned against the dock rail and took a deep breath of sea air. Before him the Great Hyrulean Sea stretched out to the horizon. The sun had set minutes ago and cold wet weather was quickly settling in. 

Joesif pulled his heavy cloak a little tighter around his body as he started walking the narrow pier. Deni was a city large in scope but small in amenities. Several taverns, inns, and brothels were all it had to offer. Set up like a large wagon wheel on the Hyrulean Sea, Deni had several long docks that stretched out from the center. Warehouses and storage facilities were stacked almost on top of one another along those arms.

Businesses and shipping companies rented those buildings to store merchandise brought in on large ships. The Iron Fist owned the pier itself that Joesif walked. Part of the security the Fist offered to merchants that utilized its services was private warehouses under yearlong guard.

Joesif pulled at the baldric drapped over his shoulder. The weight of the sword was still unfamiliar to him. He'd only been in the Iron Fist for several months and everything still felt new to him. A farm kid from Carn, he'd never been this far south in Calatia before. He had never seen a body of water larger than Sithn's Pond before.

Unlike his two older brothers, Joesif never served in the Calatian army. Instructors at the war college said a weak leg he'd had since birth made him unfit for duty. Unable to help support the family farm, Joesif remembered his friends talking about a group called the Iron Fist.

They hadn't cared about his leg. During long trips with the convoy, the commanders let him sit with the drivers. At first he worried about having to fight brigades, but soon figured that just the presence of ten armed men around a convoy was enough to scare most off. In several months of his three-year contract, he'd yet to see one real fight.

The other grunts talked about some of the cargo they moved, and Joesif wasn't entirely sure but easily guessed it wasn't something the authorities would approve of. Just as the Fist would take boys the army didn't want, they would also take shipments no one else would protect. It wasn't long before Joesif learned why; the money that flowed down was incredible.

Already he had made more rupees than both of his brothers did in an entire year. Joesif imagined himself riding back to Carn after his contract on his own stallion with enough money to buy his own farm. He looked up at the sky, already moving from deep purple to star dotted black. After the contract expired, he'd only be twenty years old...maybe he'd sign on for another tour.

He smiled and pulled his sword free. Swinging it experimentally, he wondered if he could pick up a little combat experience in two tours. Then he'd return to Carn as not just a rich farmer, but a seasoned warrior. People would respect a man like that.

A thump from the other side of the pier broke his reverie. Keeping his sword drawn, Joesif started walking around the warehouse. Three guards stationed at various points around the dock allowed them to see each other only briefly every few minutes.

He doubted there were actually thieves around the warehouse. It was probably rats. Deni had no shortage of rats. Plus he doubted there was anything in the wagons stored in the warehouse that the seafolk or former seafolk that made up the town would want.

Those dreams of becoming a brave fighter, however, made Joesif hope for some sort of intruder. He walked down a narrow ramp to the underside of the dock. This was a service area for the hulls of larger ships while men unloaded their decks above. Water lapped over rotting planks and sloshed over his boots.

Finding nothing but water rat droppings and mold, Joesif sighed and turned to return to the upper level. From the corner of his eye he saw a brush of movement. The Iron Fist officer stopped and peered into the darkness.

There was movement across the underside of the pier, on the bracing platforms of the warehouse. It bobbed in the water next to the strut. A boat. Excited, Joesif turned and ran for the ramp. He could hardly believe it. Someone was trying to sneak onto the dock.

He hit the ramp hard and started running up to the topside. He would raise the alarm and be a hero. The Fist would probably pay him even more for single-handedly saving their cargo.

At the top of the ramp he jumped to the dock and almost slammed into a person standing on the deck. Joesif's brain barely registered the sight of a sandy haired woman standing before him clad in dark leather armor with a gold design on the left breast and a cloak. She had a sword -- a sword! --- strapped to her back.

She turned sharply to look at him and lashed out before he could blink. A grip like stone locked around his wrist and with a quick yank knocked the sword from his hand. She stepped forward and drove the heel of her other hand into his jaw.

It felt as though a horse kicked him.

The blow lifted Joesif from his feet and he flew backward helplessly. He slammed into the ramp halfway down hard enough to force the air from his lungs. Unable to control his descent, he rolled down to the lower level.

Joesif finally came to a stop and turned painfully onto his side. He tasted copper. Pushing up onto his elbows, he opened his mouth and saw blood and teeth fall out.

Overhead a flash and explosion lit the sky. The concussion sent a wave of water over his body. Stupidly he watched as the dock arm across from the one he guarded went up in flame. With the orange light illuminating the bay, he could make out two small rowboats leaving the burning pier. On one he saw a cloaked man stand, pull something off a baldric, and lob it onto the burning pier.

Another explosion tore through rotting wood. Firecorns, Joesif realized. Tiny hand held bombs. Why he wondered were they attacking a neighboring pier? Overhead he heard boots against the deck. Captain Brancher and the Iron Fist were filing out of the warehouse. The sounds of combat and swords hitting steel filled the air.

Another wave from the second explosion slammed into him and lifted him again into the air. Joesif hit one of the support beams and felt ribs crack. As the water washed away, darkness started working at the edges of his vision. His last thought before losing consciousness was of his brothers.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Knight Leita turned away from the downward stroke of the blade. She twisted at the hip and drove her sword blindly up. Slight resistance and the sound of the knife hitting the dock told her she found her mark. Leita pulled her sword free and drove the hilt into the face of another oncoming attacker. The man yelled and stumbled back.

Leita moved down the dock like a whirlwind. Her sword's wet blade glistened in the distant firelight. Between her and the open barn doors of the warehouse were bodies and wounded. She glanced out over the water and saw a fire brigade fighting the burning dock fire. Squinting she could make out rowboats carrying Heralds of the Knights. So caught up in putting out the warehouses, the civil authorities didn't seem to notice her aides.

"Hey, Hyrule," she called to Glenn. "You're on. Let's get these people out of here!"

The young soldier pulled his sword out of the gut of a Fist officer and nodded. "_Gona' Tnana_," he started saying in Faranian.

Isobel, not far behind him, knife in hand, started jabbering as well.

Leita marched back down the pier, kicking discarded weapons into the sea as she did so. A wounded Fist officer suddenly sprang up and lunged at her. Leita grabbed his outstretched hand, twisted, and drove her boot into his gut. Feeling bones snap under her toe, she pulled him toward her and let his momentum carry him over her shoulder and into the waiting water. She continued on.

Reaching the end of the dock, she jumped from the wooden pier to the soft sandy shore. Waiting several yards from the Fist owned buildings was a short man holding a long knife. Thin but strong looking, he'd been a member of the Heralds, the network of contacts her kind maintained throughout the world, since before her birth.

She'd worked with him before and knew him as a competent fighter despite his age and short stature. When she put out the call for Heralds, he was the one that answered. "We're done here," she said. "Gather your people and get back to your ship."

"You're sure you wouldn't like some trail cover?"

"With luck," she said, "we'll be gone before the embers die. Thank you, though, for everything."

He bowed slightly. "When the Knights call, we answer."

"Do me a favor if you can," she told him. "Keep away from the Iron Fist. They aren't people you want to do business with."

He nodded in agreement. "Perhaps it is time to head for a better life. Hyrule is supposed to be nice."

She extended her hand and he shook it. "If you do, look us up out east."

"I shall. Farewell."

"Be safe, Sahasrahla." Leita turned and sprinted back up the dock. Not caring about stains, she wiped her sword on her trousers and drove it back into its scabbard on her back. Inside the warehouse, Glenn and Isobel had worked fast. The massive structure was one half stable and one half open storage. The entire convoy had fit with ease inside the building.

Freeing the men and women kept inside the covered wagons, Glenn and Isobel organized the strongest among them to help hitch up several teams of horses. Originally, Isobel had wanted to take one of the slave ships as a mode of escape, but with only a handful of Heralds, Leita, and Glenn doing most of the fighting that just wasn't possible.

Instead they waited until after the ship unloaded its living cargo and departed. They figured that by doubling up in the wagons they could make a quicker and easier getaway. That and some fire and mayhem away from them to keep the civil guard busy. For most of the trip down, Isobel had kept to herself, speaking almost only to Glenn, but Leita now saw a capable leader in the quiet, damaged woman.

Hitched were four wagons, two open and two closed, and filled to almost overflowing with freed slaves. Some of them appeared to have been in captivity for a while, but most were still fresh from the boat. Glenn sat in the driver's seat of one, Isobel in another, and two dark skinned men handled the last two.

Leita didn't slow as she walked through the warehouse. Her cloak billowed around her legs as she marched to the opposite end of the facility. "Glenn?"

"We're ready," he said. His accent deeper and gruffer than normal.

Leita reached the other set of barn doors and pulled the lock off as thought it were made of clay. She pushed opened the doors and peered out. "Okay, you're clear. Let's get going."

"_Yatai_," Glenn called.

The lieutenant snapped the reins and urged his team forward. Isobel followed suit and fell in line behind him. Leita watched each wagon pass by and glanced to the waiting road. "Follow this up and out," she instructed. "It's dark so let the horses find the path. When you hit land don't be afraid to go fast. We aren't stopping until morning and I want miles between here and there."

The wood pier creaked underneath the weight of the loaded wagons, but held strong. Rickety wheels found purchases in the well traveled dock and started making their way up to the city. As the last wagon passed, Leita pushed the doors shut and ran after the final cart.

She grabbed the open tailgate and pulled herself up. Unseen hands reached out and helped her in. The Knight of the Triforce nodded her thanks and found herself in a crowded wagon filled with men and women of all ages. They whispered in a tongue she didn't understand but all had tears in their eyes. They knew her not by title but as one of their rescuers

Uncomfortable with the attention, Leita smiled and nodded again. Turning in her seat, she watched as they slowly moved away from the Great Hyrulean Sea.

* * *

They pushed on past morning and until the sun was high in the winter sky. When they finally stopped at the peek of a rather large hill, the former slaves setup a camp of sorts. Leita and Glenn, still bloody from battle, began triage on the wounded free men and women. Some had cuts and bruises from cramped travel and all had at least one lash mark across their backsides and shoulders. Using potions given to them by the Sisters of the Light, the solder and Knight healed and relieved what they could.

They lit two campfires and using food Glenn had readied before launching the rescue quickly had rabbits roasting over spits. Light blue smoke hung over the campsite filling the air with pleasing and comforting smells.

"Meat and dried fruit," Leita had said to several men gathered around the fire. She had used her belt knife to slice strips of meat off the rabbit. "Everyone eats some. Slowly. It'll make you strong again."

Glenn helped oversee the distribution of food and water. That he spoke to them in a tongue they understood helped alleviate many fears. Through his link with Isobel he felt her joy at having her people back. These weren't all the same from that night when Jarn died, he knew. Many were new and only a handful of the first group remained.

Still, they were her people. They all seemed to recognize her, calling her Padmasree. The evening after the escape from Deni, Isobel lead her people in prayer before the convoy started out again. Glenn stood off to the side and felt waves of familiarity and strength coming through their bond as she chanted.

They traveled without stopping for more than a few hours at a time for a full week. They pressed north and east, putting ground between them and the Iron Fist. By the ninth day, they met up with the road leading back to the cloister.

The convoy stopped and made camp. The weather was getting worse. Snow had fallen almost four nights straight, but melted off by morning. Glenn knew that farther up the trail ice and snow were a concern for the wagon train.

Isobel found him that night sitting off alone from the campfire. "We must speak," she said in Faranian.

"What?"

Isobel pulled her borrowed cloak around her and sank down beside him. "You worry about the path ahead. Of snow." She sent him the same flash of powdery whiteness he had used to explain the meaning.

"Nay," he said with a wave. "We'll be fine."

She looked at him with eyes filled with sadness. "You will be fine," she corrected. "I must take my people home."

Glenn sat up straighter. "What? But ya are goin' back to the Sisters."

Isobel shook her head. "There is no need. My people are well and weather will not hamper us where we are going."

"But--"

She touched his hand. "As long as the Iron Fist work with the fisherman of my country to harvest its people, there shall be no tranquility. My fight continues."

Desperate, Glenn felt for her through the bond he still didn't fully understand. "I'll come with you, then."

"You have your own mission," she said. "You and the pale woman seek to stop the Fist. This ugly beast needs fighting here as well as there. You do my work."

"B-but the link," he said. "Last time we was apart I couldn't think."

Isobel leaned forward and kissed his forehead then his lips. "I free you from the bond, husband."

"Husband?"

"Padmasree Warriors take several over their lifetimes," she said. "You are my first and best. I reached out to many during my captivity, but you were the only one that heard. I will always be in your heart, as you are in mine."

"I'll come to Faran," he said, not wanting her to go. "When this is done."

She smiled and he felt her happiness. "When destiny is through with you, you are welcome in my home."

Glenn couldn't hold back the tears, and, without seeing them knew she was crying as well.

* * *

Leita walked back into camp the next morning with a string of game slung over her shoulder. She found the convoy already packed up and about to get underway. Glenn stood off to the side talking to Isobel seated on the driver's bench of one of the wagons. Two saddled horses waited behind him. 

"What's going on?" she asked, walking up.

"_Etru giante_," Isobel said.

"_Etru vanete_." Glenn squeezed her hand and stepped back. "Isobel and the others are takin' the carts and returnin' home."

"What?" Leita looked from driver to driver. "When did that happen?"

"She told me last night," Glenn said quietly. "You was out huntin'."

"Well, that's a fine thank you," said the Knight. "After all we--"

"You sacrificed much," Isobel said in Hylian. "You braved danger for a people you did not know. Mere words could never be enough."

"Oh." Leita rolled her eyes slightly. "You're welcome."

The Knight stood back while Glenn and the religious leader exchanged words in Faranian. Several of the other members of the convoy had words with Glenn. Somehow the young solder had earned a place in their society. She guessed but didn't know for certain that it had something to do with his relationship with Isobel.

After a while the first wagon started out, followed by another, a third, and finally Isobel herself. The carts wobbled onto the well traveled road and started southeast. She stood with Glenn until the last wagon was gone from sight.

"If I live to be a thousand," he said at last, "I don't think I'll understand that woman...or what she did to me."

Leita watched him mount his horse and continue on north. She thought back to when he asked if Isobel had the gift of magic and prophecy. The Padmasree Warrior had something, Leita decided.

* * *

They traveled in silence after the convoy departed. Leita hung back for most of the day and let Glenn be alone with his thoughts. At nightfall they made camp and ate some of the food she caught earlier. "I'll take first watch tonight," she said. 

Glenn grunted a reply and opened his bedroll.

Leita let him sleep through the night, listening as he muttered Isobel's name.

The next day he was still depressed. By afternoon Leita had enough and rode up along side him. "Listen to me," she said, surprising him. "Even though I'm a girl, I don't do well with touchy feely dren. So I'm only going to say this once.

"You loved her, that's plain. But she loved you, too. People that pined after someone that didn't feel the same way fill this world to the lip. You are lucky enough to have met someone that returned your feelings.

"On top of that, you just pulled off something amazing. Those people have a chance again. Isobel has a real chance at stopping what the Fist is doing to her country and that is because of you. Feel sad if you want to, but don't go thinking this wasn't wonderful and great and, above all else, rare."

Glenn just looked at her for a long moment. The only sound was the horses picking their way over loose stones in the road. "Ya are a girl?" he said at last.

Leita gave him a look. "That one is free," she said. "Next one, won't be."

Glenn smiled.

The terrain around them grew higher and the air grew colder. Freed from the cumbersome train, they covered ground much faster. By their fourth day out, they crossed back into Hyrule and, skirting the heavily wooded areas, made their way back to the cloister.

Though she didn't share it with her traveling partner, Leita again felt that weakness seeping through her bones. Feeling older than her years, she knew time was running out. One way or another her journey would end soon.

Traveling back to Seline, Leita let her mind wander to what the future might hold for the princess' daughter. In his papers over a thousand years ago, Wizard Homes had talked extensively about the last Knight of the Triforce.

Leita had once thought all that talk was just wizards dreaming of a time when the Knights, counterbalance to their power in the world, were gone. Now she knew other spell casters knew of those papers and believed firmly in them.

For someone born with the ability to combat magic, she never gave much thought to the philosophical implications of wizards and their beliefs. She did know, however, that prophecy didn't have to be real for a group of determined people to make it self-fulfilling.

Mother Sura was waiting for them when they arrived back at the cloister. "Praise the Light above and below you've returned," she said.

Leita dismounted and handed the horse off to a Sister. "Mission accomplished," she said. "They're all on their way back to Faran. How's Seline?"

Glenn handed his gelding off and followed the Knight and Mother inside. The dark and warm building offered a nice cozy change from the road.

"She is doing very well," Sura said. "The baby has grown amazingly well. You may see her if you wish."

Leita took off her cloak and shook it out. "I'd like that."

"Ah," Glenn said, "I'll wait out here. Don't care much for seein' royalty right now."

The Knight was taken up through the maze like building to the large room converted into an infirmary for the princess. Boards and shutters covered hall windows, robbing the home of what little sunlight had shined through as they prepared for winter.

Converted from a storage room, Seline's chamber held a full bed, tables, and stove for heat. Neatly kept in the corner in preparation of the birth were various medical instruments. Leita smelled several burning herbs that healers used to bring about a state of calm.

Seline sat up in bed, clad in the white robes of a novice Sister. Her stomach had nearly doubled in size since the Knight left. Her skin was still pale and drawn, but the spark of intelligence and power were again present in her eyes. The roots of her hair were also darker, Leita noticed.

"Well, you're looking better," the Knight said. The sound of her boots against the hardwood floor was the only sound as she slowly walked the space of the room.

"You shouldn't have come after me, Leita. This will be easier on Harkinian if I'm allowed to just fade away for a while."

Leita fixed a hard stare on her. "You're welcome. If not for me, you'd be dead." She took a step toward the witch and held the moment for a long while. "I'm very angry with you. Do you know why? I actually like Harkinian. I didn't think I would, but I do. He's a nice man that doesn't deserve all these people playing games around him...least of all you.

"I told you I didn't want to see you hurt him and that's exactly what you came to Hyrule to do. You think you are serving the greater good? Tell me, was it the Tower or the Outcasts that beat the humanity out of you?"

"My master is a wise and old prophet," Seline said. "You don't know all the--"

"Dren. You serve people that think nothing of using other people for personal gain." Leita looked away in disgust. "Harkinian loved you, you know that? Against all better judgement, he probably still does. And he was what? A game piece?"

Tears threatened to fill Seline's eyes. "I still love Harkinian very much."

Leita leaned in close. "Prove it and come back to the castle with me. Harkinian is still in danger and I need all the help I can get saving him."

"What are you talking about?"

Leita gave the princess an overview of the Iron Fist and her conclusions of Hylian nobility pulling the strings. "It's got to be high and it's got to be close to him," she said. "I want to flush these cisuckers out of this country.

"Now you're far away from your so called masters. You have the baby you came for. You can run away again and leave Harkinian to face the Fist, or you can make the choice to willingly come back with me. What'll it be?"

Seline was silent for a long moment. Emotion filled her blue eyes. Finally she looked up and repeated Glenn's words to Jarn: "I want to help."

After an hour with the princess, Leita walked down stairs and found Glenn eating in the kitchen of the cloister. "How'd it go?" he asked.

"Well," she answered, "the Fist has wizards on their side, and now we have a single witch."

* * *

Little more than a month later, late at night, while a blizzard raged outside, screams filled the top floor of the cloister. Outside Seline's room waiting were Glenn and Leita. Both were bleary eyed and wore a mix of day and bedclothes. 

They'd been listening to the cascade of screams for hours. "I think ya should go in there," Glenn said.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, she's a woman 'nd so are ya. Maybe ya can help."

"Aside from putting a pillow over her face, I don't think there's much I can do." She paused. "Besides, I don't want to see it happen."

"Yer a woman, dinna yer mother teach ya about stuff like this?"

A yell of pain punctuated his remark. "Mother failed to mention _that_ part," she said.

Two more Sisters of the Light ran down the hall and entered he room. Both warriors made a point to look away when the door opened.

"Maybe it's different for Knights?" Glenn suggested, seemingly because he didn't have anything to say.

"Sweet Light, I hope so."

Over the yelling they could hear Sura saying words of encouragement. The uncomfortable noise seemed to reach a peek and then a new sound took its place. A much smaller cry.

Glenn and Leita looked at each other. As one they stepped toward the room and chanced a glance inside. They saw Seline, being covered in warm blankets and surrounded by towels soaked with blood, holding a naked squirming baby. Its cry filled the room.

"It's purple," Glenn whispered.

"And slimy," Leita added.

They shared a look and broke out in large stupid grins.

Seline, covered in sweat, looked down at the baby in her arms and said two words, "Princess Zelda."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Chancellor Deverell handed the king a sketch drawn on old wrinkled parchment. "Two generations ago," he continued, "Kilsa's grandfather, on her father's side, was linked to the poisoning of a Calatian army general. He reportedly used this ring."

Harkinian glanced up at Deverell and then studied the charcoal drawing. The two men were alone in the king's private office. Large snowflakes stuck to the high windows, illuminated by the flickering oil lamps. Around them was the smell of birch burning in the oversized fireplace.

"It has a false signet that carries a dose of micsloglosin, a poison that kills through mere skin contact and leaves no outward sign. An Alterer of the Fourth Order who also fashioned the ring developed it for her great great grandfather.

"He also provided the palace with that drawing. We wouldn't know any of this if not for the fact my predecessor used the same Alterer for some of his more _thorough_ background checks."

"The ring was never recovered?"

Deverell shook his head in the negative. "I'd remind you, sir, that does not mean Kilsa in is possession of the ring."

Harkinian sat back in his chair. "Why didnt you know of this sooner?"

"With respect, sir, this proves nothing in regard to your father. All royal families have poison recipes, including yours. And a dead general fifty years ago is hardly a skeleton worth mentioning."

"I read the assessment you wrote about her family," Harkinian said. "Written when my father was searching for my bride. 'She is capable of murder if the reasons are right to her.' You wrote that!"

Deverell nodded. "I did and my opinion hasn't changed. Sir...she had no reason to kill your father."

"Power."

"She had power and influence," Deverell stated. "By keeping you alive she was already assured what she now has."

"There has to be something, then!" Harkinian closed his eyes and lowered his tone. "I refuse to believe mere days after Princess Seline was almost assassinated by magic, my father just died of natural causes. Suddenly all the Houses are quiet again."

"The assassin sent after you attempted to kill Seline, Knight Leita killed him, and the families behind the plot decided it was in their best interest to not pursue the issue."

"And which families were behind the plot?"

Deverell remained silent.

"You are one of the best political advisers my family has ever known," Harkinian said. "I have watched you and my father maneuver and manipulate by never ever accepting things at face value."

"Sir--"

"This just does not feel right, Deverell. I cannot reconcile it in my mind. And I no longer trust Kilsa."

The minister of state for Hyrule took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sir, I have seen people thrust into power become overwhelmed by it. Often they become distrustful of the people around them without good reason. Please do not let that happen to you."

"I'm distrustful of the people around me because I was lied to by them," he said sharply. "I know how that sounds, but all I'm left with now are instincts and gut feelings."

Deverell nodded. "I shall continue to look into your father's death, sir. Specifically for a reason Kilsa might have had to kill him."

"Thank you, Deverell." Harkinian looked out the windows for a long moment. It was dark and he could only see his refection there. The fire popped sending up a flood of orange sparks into the flue. "Was my father this lonely?"

"Your father was a very ambitious man. People such as that don't have time for loneliness."

Harkinian turned sad eyes to his adviser. "Is that my flaw?"

"I don't have an answer for that, sir."

"I don't think I was really expecting one." He gave the minister a single nod. "That will be all."

Deverell bowed at the waist. "Thank you, sir."

Harkinian watched him exit, and then looked back to the old drawing of the ring that belonged to Kilsa's family. Deverell was right, a voice said in the back of his mind. This was foolishness and paranoia. Grief and the shock of Seline must still be driving him. It was worse since quick calculations told him the birth should have happened by now. Somewhere out in the wilds of Hyrule or Calatia his daughter was already several weeks old.

Perhaps Deverell was right. Kilsa, though aloof, had always been kind to her new family. The time spent getting close to her hadn't turned up any hidden motives as he had hoped. She was accommodating when he asked her opinion on matters of state.

Harkinian put his face in his hands and slumped over his desk. He just wanted something sure to believe in. Was this truly his life now? Suspecting his wife of murder while missing his illegitimate child? A year ago at this time he'd been a carefree prince happy to live the role of weak heir of who not much was ever expected. So much so the royal houses had wanted to kill him and take the throne away from the Genary family.

If he had children with Kilsa, once an outrageous thought, how would that affect his firstborn who also had a claim to the Calatian Seat?

Again, Harkinian wished his father had had more children. A brother or sister would have solved everyone's trouble. How his father must have felt knowing his son was such a disappointment. Knowing that nothing could stop the families from trying to kill his son.

It was only by sheer luck that the threat against him was a magical one. That drew the attention of the Knights, not wanting a major shake up of Hylian rule, the Tower fearing a rouge wizard involving them in politics, and Seline's Outcast group that used the opportunity to fulfill their twisted prophecy.

He'd never been so lucky.

Harkinian raised his head at that thought. Take nothing at face value. His limbs suddenly felt cold and it had nothing to do with the storm outside. Surely Gareth wouldn't have created a false plot just to shore support for his son? Yes, Harkinian decided, Gareth could have been that devious.

But the planning...a wizard did try to kill Seline. After she attempted to bring squads from the Tower. Harkinian pushed back away from the desk. "Sweet Light," he whispered. It made sense...why the assassin had targeted her.

His father had tried to kill a visiting emissary from another country.

He brought in a Knight and a real spell caster to lend credence to the plot, but never intended to pull the release until Seline involved herself. The threat had come not long after he recovered from the fever, before the houses could launch their own plan.

Everyone would assume someone else was responsible and wait for it to play itself out. He then brought Kilsa in handle the heavy lifting once his son took the throne. Harkinian stood and fought back a gag. He was still playing right into his father's hands by inviting Kilsa in close. Something approaching a sob escaped his mouth. What was he to do?

* * *

"Are you okay, Harkinian?" Kilsa later asked him. "You haven't looked well lately." 

The fake smile that he was getting better at maintaining rose without thought. "Of course, dear. I'm just tired."

The two royals sat in the lavish throne room of Hyrule Castle. The snow had stopped days ago and now sunlight that seemed far too bright shone down from the high skylights. Aides, lost in their own cares, moved along the far end of the room. They had spent most of the day holding court and seeing advisers.

Kilsa gave him a tight smile and intimately touched his ear tip. "Perhaps I can join you tonight and help relieve some of that weariness."

Harkinian could not think of a less appealing thought. "Thank you, but I've canceled all my meetings tonight and just want to sleep. I don't have energy for anything tonight."

"Okay. If you change your mind you know where to find me."

Harkinian nodded and watched as Kilsa stood and moved off. Her security personnel falling smartly in step behind her. Tiredness settled itself on firmly on his shoulders. Days of thinking about his daughter, his father's plans, and what if any role Kilsa played was slowly working him further and further into depression.

Everything it seemed was just falling away from him.

As though on silent cue, the guards at the doors turned and walked from the room. Aides also turned and left Harkinian alone. Alarmed, he sat up and looked around. "What's going on?"

"Is it too late?" a voice asked.

Harkinian stood and saw a cloaked figure emerge from the shadows. "Is it too late," the person asked again, "for a late supplication?"

The king frowned and considered calling for his guards. Was this finally the assassin come to kill him? Did it matter if it was?

The stranger came to a stop and pushed back her hood. "Hello again, sir."

"Leita!" Harkinian crossed the distance at a run and enveloped her in a tight hug. "Leita, you're back!"

The Knight laughed and awkwardly returned the hug. "It's good to see you again, Your Majesty...I'm, ah, not really a hugger."

"Oh." He pulled back. "You're back...does that mean you found her?"

Leita nodded. "Seline is with me; she's fine and Zelda is fine."

"Zelda?" Realization slowly struck and softened his features even more. "She's okay?"

"Ten little fingers, ten little toes, two good lungs. Very little hair, though."

Harkinian threw his head back and laughed. "That's wonderful. I want to see her."

Leita grabbed his arm. "We need to talk to you, all of us. I met up with an army soldier sent to investigate a trade organization. He along with the Knights uncovered something huge. You need to see us away from everyone, even Chancellor Deverell."

"Okay. We can use my private office," Harkinian said. "Use the servant entrance to the south hall and follow it down. I'll make sure it is empty tonight."

"That'll do." Leita pulled her hood up and stepped back. "Don't talk to anyone until then. Don't let anyone know we are back."

"Fine." Still thinking about Zelda, Harkinian only half listened and never noticed as Leita slipped from the throne room.

After that, the time could not pass fast enough for Harkinian. An about face from earlier in the day, he now felt like a little kid on his birthday. He quickly called for Deverell and made sure his schedule was empty for the rest of the night, and then arranged for the head of the staff to clear the south hall.

He skipped dinner and went directly to his office. After several hours of waiting, he heard a knock on the door.

"Come."

Leita opened the door and held it for a shorter man in traveling clothes and finally Princess Seline. The Knight glanced up then down the hall and shut the door. In Seline's arms was a tightly wrapped bundle. Unable to stop himself, Harkinian took a step toward her. Compared to almost a year ago when she stepped from the carriage in the courtyard of the castle, Seline looked older and more weathered. The air of power still surrounded her, but now a burden seemed to weigh on her. The witch's lips smiled but not her eyes.

"Harkinian," she said. "Meet your daughter Zelda."

Years ago at midsummer when he and Seline had gone off to celebrate the day of freedom given to all students, Harkinian had thought her the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. He felt then that nothing could ever look as wonderful to his eyes than Seline in cool moonlight.

Until he looked down at his daughter.

Seline handed the sleeping baby to him. "Look at her, Harkinian. She's perfect."

He laughed. A tiny hand curled around his finger. Tiny wisps of blond hair twisted around her small head. Little pink lips puffed slightly with each breath. She was light in his arms. He tried taking in every aspect of her tiny form, as though afraid she would somehow vanish.

Harkinian found himself incurably in love. Existence as he knew it now centered around her. He could never go back and be the same man.

Leita cleared her throat. "Your Majesty, I'm sorry but we have important matters that have to be seen to."

He glanced up and noticed the Knight and soldier for the first time.

"This is Lieutenant Glenn Tarmag," Leita said. "Eleven months ago he and a Knight of the Triforce stumbled upon a plot to undermine you and the government of Calatia. Someone is masterminding it inside this palace.

"Harkinian, are you listening to me?" At his nod she continued, "They have Outcasts on their side and have slowly been building a paramilitary force funded by prostitution and slavery and contraband. They capture people in poor countries, probably bribing authorities there to look the other way, transport them by shipping lines to Calatia and Hyrule where they are sold to the highest bidder.

"They have also used their contacts within the governments to subvert legitimate protection contracts with merchants. People pay them to guard legal shipments and people pay them for illegal shipments.

"All this is being done in the open under the name Iron Fist Trade Organization."

"The Iron Fist?" Harkinian asked. "I've never even heard of it before."

"The captain of the guard sent me," Glenn Tarmag said, "because they've been undercuttin' our routes. He wanted to make sure they was up and up. Excuse me, sir."

"That means he's clean," Leita said. "We can trust the captain of the guard."

"Trust? What do you mean?"

Leita gave him a hard stare. "It's time to cleanse the palace. Starting with the top. This has to go high enough to change troop movement and award contracts. We know it's not the captain. These are the people that wanted you dead, Harkinian. They couldn't risk you taking charge."

"No, no, I don't believe anyone wanted me to..." he trailed off and realization struck. "My father. That's the connection between him and Kilsa."

"Sir?"

Harkinian swallowed hard. "Do you have proof of any of this?"

Leita reached into the folds of her cloak and withdrew several pages of parchment. "This was copied out of a log book taken from one of the Fist's convoys." She handed them to him.

Like an expert parent, Harkinian switched Zelda to the crook of one arm and took the pages from her.

"There are names there. Most are abbreviated, but if you compare them to a list of field officers and low level politicians it should be easy enough to put full names to them."

"Where are the originals?"

"Waiting to be delivered to the Tower of Magic," Leita said. "Come spring their squads will handle the Outcasts working with the Fist. Without strong magic on their side, and those in charge aware of them, the operation out there will fall apart."

Harkinian read for a full minute. Finally, he glanced at Seline. "Did you know anything about this?"

She shook her head no. "My master does not serve any such group."

"You believe all this, Leita?"

The Knight didn't hesitate. "I do, sir."

"Lieutenant Tarmag?"

"Sir!"

Harkinian handed the papers over to him. "Take these to the captain of the guard right away. Tell him that by morning I want a public commission in place to investigate this. Go directly to him from here. I will give you a letter of admission to get past his guards.

"Tell him I no longer trust Chancellor Deverell and suspect there are traitors operating within my government that will take any means necessary to remain hidden."

The young solider didn't blink at the weighty assignment. "Yes, sir. I'll stay with him until the order is given."

Harkinian turned toward Leita. "Stay with my daughter and Seline," he said. "I've asked so much from you, but guard this room with your life."

Leita stood up straight. "Never even had to ask. What are you going to do?"

Harkinian handed Zelda back to Seline. "I have to see my wife."

"You shouldn't go out alone, Harkinian. If Deverell is--"

"Not now," he cut her off. "I'm sorry, Leany, but this is something I have to do. I'm king of the largest country in the world and it's time I start acting like it."

* * *

Kilsa answered the knock to find Harkinian standing on her doorstep. "You changed your mind?" 

Harkinian nodded. "I had to see you."

She invited him in and smiled. "I'm glad you decided to come over. Let's see if I can relieve some of that weariness." A short robe covered the silk shift she slept in. As she closed the door, she let slip the knot. Her braid was undone and dark hair spilled in a wave down her back.

He walked into the drawing room and looked idly around. "Actually, I'm already feeling better. The sense of great work ahead is still there, but I have a greater clarity about myself now."

"Wow." Kilsa ran her hands down his chest. "What brought about the change?"

"I came to an understanding with myself." He kissed her forehead but turned away before she could move further. "Can I ask you something, Kilsa?"

"Of course."

He walked into her bedroom with her close behind. The coverlet on the canopied bed was turned down and the air was filled with the scent of lotions she used to soften her skin. Two small candles flickered on both night tables. "Have you ever been in love, Kilsa?"

"You don't need to ask that," she said sympathetically. "I--"

He cut her off with a shake of his head. "I'm not looking for unearned compliments. I'd really like to know if you have ever been in love with another person."

Kilsa looked up at him as she thought. Even with her natural height, she seemed small and weak standing before him barefoot and nearly naked. "I think for a time I was, but I grew up and things changed."

Harkinian nodded. "Thank you. You know I once thought I was in love. I thought I knew exactly what it meant to love a girl."

"And now?"

He walked to her bureau and began looking at the different scents there. He also spotted her family's signet ring resting in an open box. "And now I know that loving a girl means seeing in them all the things you thought were gone from the world. It has nothing to do with midsummer or stealing a kiss. Those things are the preamble. A first act most walk out after and miss the true depth and extent of the play."

Harkinian lifted a bottle of perfume, smelled the neck, and smiled. "You wore this the day we met."

Kilsa slid up behind him and whispered in his ear, "I could put it on and give you another memory with it."

"Oh, Kilsa." He set the bottle down. "I will always associate that scent with you. For as long as I live it will remind me of you."

Harkinian lashed out then. Turning suddenly he backhanded her across the face. She stumbled back more from shock than the force of the blow. Wide eyed, she touched her cheek and pulled back a hand covered in clear gel.

"From this," he supplied, holding up her signet ring. "Tell me, Kilsa, was it ever hard lying to me?"

Kilsa watched in complete shock as the gel on her hand sank into her flesh. She tried wiping it off on her robe, but within seconds it had all vanished into her pores.

"You--?!" Kilsa tried stepping toward him, but wavered on her feet and stumbled back until she found the bed. She fell unceremoniously onto her backside, unable to care about modesty.

"It's just a guess on my part," Harkinian said, placing the ring back in its ornate box and snapping the lid closed, "but that is about the amount you poisoned my father with."

"You...don't kill...me." She grabbed at the coverlet.

He knelt before her. "I know about the Iron Fist."

Recognition flashed in her eyes. "No..."

"Yes," he whispered. "I don't know when you learned of them, or if it was even from my father, and I no longer care. I'm going to make sure the Fist never again gains a foothold in this country. I will make it a crime for one of their officers to even step foot across the border. You and my father failed miserably, Kilsa. Undone by the very person you thought too foolish for such things."

Kilsa fell back against the bed, her eyes already glassy as she lost consciousness. "Weak..."

"Not anymore," Harkinian told her, pushing to his feet. "I can't be. There's somebody depending on me to be strong now."

He snuffed both candles and left her in the dark. Never looking back, he walked out and left his wife to die alone.

* * *

The next morning brought change to Hyrule. By edict of the king, every towncryer and gossip wager knew of the corruption within the walls of the castle. The captain of the guard established a public council tasked with uprooting the Iron Fist from Hyrule Castle Town. Authorities had freedom to question merchants up to powerful members of the royal houses and the public had the word of House Genary that all findings would be open to all. 

The viper in the grass had no way of fighting back against a world that knew of its existence. The Fist's greatest power, Harkinian knew, was in its shadowy operation. Through people he trusted, he forced it out of the shadows and into the light.

Before the end of the first day two military commanders were removed by underlings, several members of the palace governing staff vanished, and an elder statesmen in one of the families hung himself.

Word traveled fast and before long the recruiting offices of the Iron Fist throughout Hyrule were closing and their officers packing for Calatia.

The last secret, however, was Kilsa's death. Harkinian knew that was out of necessity more than anything else. He would have to explain Zelda come spring. No one would ever know her real mother or the story of her birth.

While the country churned with knowledge of power plays of its leaders, Harkinian remained apart from as much of it as he could manage. The defense and state commanders handled the inquest while he bonded with his daughter.

Princess Seline found him and Zelda together in the private garden one cold afternoon. Staff had swept most of the snow from the stone walkways, but the trees and tall plants still held large pillows of ice coated snow. Harkinian held his little girl and gently rocked her back and forth while watching runoff drip from an evergreen.

"Harkinian?" she said.

The king turned and smiled. "There is something about this place she seems to like. She was crying all morning until I brought her here. Calmed her right down."

Seline pushed back the small blanket and kissed her daughter's face. "It's the gift. She can sense the life of this place. It's soothing."

He shrugged and glanced down at her. "Or she just likes the smell of the flowers."

"No, Harkinian, she does have the gift. It's wildly strong in her. Zelda could grow into one of the greatest spell casters that ever lived." Seline bit her bottom lip. "I've already sent word to my master. It's almost time for us to leave."

"You can leave whenever you want, Seline," he said. "I'm not holding you here. But Zelda isn't going with you."

"What?"

"She's my daughter, too, Leany. I don't want her used as some pawn in a prophecy. Zelda will grow up here in Hyrule, and, if someday in the future, she is needed in some great battle she will face it as a loved child not a forged weapon."

Seline shook her head. "You don't understand what you are endangering. Zelda must be taught to control her gifts."

"And she will," he said. "But not by the Tower or your master. The only master she will never know is the one in her heart."

"Then who will train her? Outcasts?"

"I've come to believe the Outcasts are just the Tower in different clothing. No, I intend to use those that practice outside the influence of the Ruling Council and politics of Country Wizards."

Seline frowned. "You don't mean the Sheikah?!"

"If I can find one."

The air crackled around Seline as she drew power and Zelda turned to look at her mother. "They are abominations of magic. I will take her from you, Harkinian, before that happens."

Boots crunched through ice behind them. "No you won't, Your Highness," Leita said. "If she is all you think she is, that girl is going to need the best up bringing she can get. Harkinian can give her that much better than a spell caster."

Seline turned a glare on the Knight. "I thought the Knights were neutral in political affairs?"

"They are," she said. "In this, I'm simply Leita. I believe in Harkinian and I believe in that little girl. I don't know what the future will bring for my kind, but if the last one will fight shoulder to shoulder with her, then I want Harkinian's values guiding her. My descendant deserves that, at least.

"I am willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that happens."

Harkinian stepped between them. "Seline," he said. "You are still my dearest friend and you are always welcome here. Zelda will know you; but Tower or Outcast will not train her. I don't like what that training does to the people I love. It changes them. You can't deny that."

Seline was silent for a long moment. "How will she know me?"

"We'll tell her the truth together when she's old enough."

"And if that day doesn't come?"

"It will."

Seline touched Zelda's little cheek, rosy from the cold, and turned from the garden. She gave Leita a hard stare as she passed.

When the double glass doors shut behind the princess, Leita turned to Harkinian. "Well, something tells me you haven't heard the last of _that_."

"I doubt I have," he agreed. "Leany doesn't back off that easily." He switched Zelda from one arm to the other.

"I wish there was more I could do."

He shook his head. "It's my problem now. We'll be fine."

"Good...Do me a favor. When Princess Seline does go back to Calatia, send Glenn with her as guard. I think he could use the time away from the palace to work through some things."

Harkinian frowned at the odd request. "Done."

"Thank you." Leita glanced down for a long moment. "I've come to say goodbye, Harkinian."

"Why? Where are you going?"

"Home." She suddenly looked very tired. "It's time to go back and mourn the people we lost. Not much time is left for my kind."

"I'm sorry."

Leita touched the mountains of snow on the evergreen in front of them. "It's our time. Change is coming to the world. Don't make a fool of me, Harkinian. Teach that girl well. Even if Seline is wrong, Zelda will still one day rule this country."

Snow fell from the evergreen in wet clumps. Around them birds settled in hidden nests to ride out another winter storm. Harkinian looked down at his little girl and understood the responsibility given to him.

"I promise she will be ready."

**End**


End file.
